


Ersatz

by iamnotninja



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Choking, Clones, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Existential Crisis, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Loneliness, M/M, Mood Swings, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, ZaDr, but probably not in the way you're thinking, hand stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-01-05 21:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12197649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotninja/pseuds/iamnotninja
Summary: 20 and still desperately trying to expose Zim, Dib finds out a secret that shatters his world. Meanwhile, Zim's lack of progress is about to result in severe consequences. Adrift and confused, how do they find meaning? Slow burn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this fic in 2006 and stopped updating in 2007. I'm importing it to AO3 because for the first time I actually want to finish it. This was based off a possible story line for the show that never happened. This is also darker and gorier than the show. Chapters 1-4 were written in 2006. I made some edits to them, but that is where there may be a shift in tone/writing.
> 
> 7/5/18: I'm trying to be conscientious about updating the tags as there are some violent scenes, but please let me know if you feel there are tags missing.

Dib rushed into the dingy living room of his house, tossing his book bag onto the floor. He had just returned from a really good Zim-stalking expedition. He was convinced he had enough photographic evidence to finally reveal Zim to the world.

"Gaz! Guess what?" the boy squealed. "I was going through Zim's garbage and I found half a squid! Do you know what this means?"

Gaz glanced up from her Game Slave and muttered, "Get out, freakazoid! I'm almost done with this level!"

Dib scowled and kicked the couch, jostling the Game Slave out of her hands. He knew she didn't give a shit, but it still stung that there'd been no mention of his birthday.

"Fuck off. It's my twentieth birthday. Can't you listen to me once a year?"

"Get the fuck out before I rip your stupid tongue out of your big stupid head!" Gaz growled, her eyes flashing threateningly. When Dib continued to affect her with his presence, she screeched, "Security!" Dib raised his hands in surrender as several seemingly inanimate stuffed animals rose to life, complete with weaponry. He slowly backed out of the room, not wanting another painful encounter.

_Gaz wouldn't care if I grew a second head._

He passed the kitchen, where his father was partially hidden behind an enormous stack of files. Dib stopped, hoping for a 'Happy Birthday', at least. He stood there, watching his father shuffle through some data charts for several minutes. Finally, Professor Membrane glanced at his son, only to frown, and return even more urgently to his work. Dib sighed. Aside from agreeing to let Dib keep living in the house after graduation, his father and he hadn't spoken in almost a year.

"I'm going to my room to do some Zim work. Don't bother me, okay?" No response except for the shuffling of papers. Dib shrugged it off, grabbed a box of pizza that was apparently dinner, and headed to his room, picking his book bag up off the floor on the way. At least he had some promising photos to look at. His family might not pay attention to him now, but when he revealed Zim for what he really was, then they'd really pay attention to him. _Yeah right. And it'll be all hugs and kisses and "Attaboys" happily ever after._

_*_

Dib threw down the stack of newly developed photos in disgust. The pictures were less relevant than he remembered. There was one picture of Zim's left foot, one of a garden gnome, and one of GIR kissing a fire hydrant. The rest hadn't even been worth printing. _Some birthday_ , Dib thought bitterly. His eyes watered, and he blinked hard several times before opening a window to air out the acrid fumes.

_Nine years. Nine fucking years, and I have nothing to show for it._

Dib flopped down on his bed and stared at the cheesy, tattered _Animorphs_ poster on the ceiling. He remembered how much he loved those books and how, when Zim first showed up, he was so damn sure that was how his life would go. All he needed to do was convince a few people. A few friends, comrades, fellow soldiers to believe in him, to fight with him, to save the world.

That hope had finally sputtered out in high school when, instead of mocking him, everyone just stopped seeing him. Their eyes would flicker past his face, bodies moving out of the way even as their faces remained neutral. There would be no friends, no crash-landed aliens to help him, no secret powers. Just him, fighting alone for a planet not worth saving.

 

Dib sighed and sat up. _Shut the fuck up and keep working._ He pulled a laser he was working on out of his desk drawer and ducked as it began firing randomly.

"Stupid" _duck_ "fucking" _duck_ "self-defense laser!" he muttered. "You're supposed to defend _me_ , not yourself!" The laser, apparently not agreeing, promptly grew legs and climbed up the wall.

Several hours (and some scorched furniture) later, Dib finally managed to make the weapon stop shooting at random intervals. He glanced at the clock and found it to be well past midnight. Dib took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. He dropped the laser, and it scuttled under the bed, humming malevolently. Turing towards his bed Dib jumped back in shock when he found himself face-to-face with his father.

"Holy shit!" Dib yelped, leaping back several feet. "Dad, you scared the crap--" Professor Membrane grabbed his throat and pressed a damp, sweet-smelling cloth to Dib's mouth and nose.

Dib gagged as the chloroform filled his lungs. He desperately tried to push the larger man away, his limbs feeling heavy and disconnected. Professor Membrane, looking politely disinterested, tightened his grip on the boy's neck, waiting as Dib's struggles got weaker and weaker. When he finally went limp, Membrane released him, and Dib fell to the floor with a thud.

"We need to talk."

*

Dib groaned as consciousness rushed back, along with a throbbing headache. He felt like a porcupine had been placed inside his skull which, knowing his father, was a possibility.

He tried to sit up but found his legs and left arm strapped to the long, metal examination table he was lying on. He was in his father's laboratory, surrounded by gleaming contraptions, bubbling vials, and scientific instruments. Dib reached his right hand over to untie his left arm before a fist crashed into his head. He fell back, ears ringing, and latex-gloved hands swiftly strapped down his right arm. Blinking the spots out of his eyes, Dib saw his father leaning over him.

"What- what the fuck are you doing?" Membrane ignored him and slid a syringe into Dib's arm, pulling back the plunger until the vial was half full of blood.

"The root of the error will be found," Professor Membrane muttered to himself. "The next attempt will be far superior thanks to the failure. Dissection-"

"DISSECTION?!" Dib bellowed. "Dad, are you fucking crazy?"

"Stop calling me that," Professor Membrane said sharply.

"Dad, if you don't tell me what the fuck is going on, I- " Dib stopped, not knowing what to say. _This_ is what he hated about "real science". It was vague and cryptic and gave him the chills.

"Don't call me that!" Professor Membrane yelled, his fingers twitching.

As Dib stared at him, terrified, Professor Membrane laughed humorlessly. "You know, it's so interesting how this whole experiment turned out, despite its failure. You see, Dib, about twenty years ago, I considered two unalterable truths: my greatness and my mortality. It was truly terrible to think that I, Professor Membrane, champion of REAL SCIENCE would one day die. For the good of SCIENCE I resolved to never let that happen. So I resolved to create someone who could continue my great works of SCIENCE when I died. It took many many tries, four hundred and ninety-two to be exact, but I finally did it."

Dib shook his head, unable to _comprehend_ what his father was telling him.

"Dad- Dad, I want to go home-"

Professor Membrane backhanded him and continued his monologue.

"Specimen 492 was the only specimen that reached the zygote stage. I thought I'd succeeded, that my legacy was assured, but I was wrong. There is an error, an irreversible error. It took longer to realize, but 492 was no less a failure than the previous experiments.

Dib couldn't move. Every muscle in his body was frozen, locked in place. He was too smart to not realize what his father was saying. For a few seconds, nothing. Then a small grin twitched Dib's mouth. A giggle escaped, high pitched and hysterical. Then Dib threw back his head and laughed a shrill, panicked sound.

"That's great, Dad! So what if one of your experiments failed? Can we go home now?"

Professor Membrane stood up, and, in a steely voice, he said, "You and I are created from the same genetic material. You were intended to be another me. Instead you are irreversibly flawed: the insanity, the disregard for real science, innumerable personality flaws. You fail to fulfill the purpose you were designed for."

As he said this, the scientist squeezed out a few drops of blood from the syringe onto a computer pad then deftly cut his own finger and pressed it into an adjacent pad. Instantly, the computer program began analyzing the two samples. Similarity after similarity appeared on the screen. After a few numb seconds, a flat computerized voice rang out into the lab, " _Analysis complete. Result- full DNA match."_

Dib's insane giggles caught in his throat, denial no longer a viable option. _This isn't possible. It's a bad sci-fi movie. I'm not-_ He tried to quell the growing panic in his head. He jerked frantically, trying to free himself as his heart raced. His left arm felt looser. _Keep him talking._ He asked the first question that came to mind.

"Did- did Mom know about- me? Did she know I- I wasn't-" the words caught in Dib's throat. _Real? Normal?_ Everything he thought about who he was- lies.

"She is _not_ your mother," Membrane growled, his fingers again twitching. "And the answer is no. She thought it was a natural pregnancy. She never suspected a thing."

Dib's eyes widened in shock. "You- you used her like a- a fucking incubator? You sick bastard!"

His left arm was almost free, but then what?

Professor Membrane frowned, his voice becoming icy and robotic, "Specimen 492, you are a corrupted exercise. As such you will be eliminated for public safety through injection of-"

Dib screamed, "I wish she found out everything, knew that she married a MONSTER!"

On the word _monster_ , Dib's hand shot out, grabbing a bubbling flask. His brain shut down into survival mode, he didn't register the searing heat as he threw it directly at Membrane's head.The scientist jerked back, trying to avoid the flask and lost his balance. He fell, his head thwacking against the exam table on the way down. Dip stared at the limp form, heart pounding. _Get the fuck out!_ He untied his arm and legs, his fingers trembling so much it took three tries to free his legs.

Dib fled through the double doors, down a gleaming white hallway, through another set of double doors, and another, and finally escaped the hateful building, fleeing into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Zim frowned in concentration, slowly lowering the laser towards the student bolted to the top of his desk. Behind him, the rest of the class huddled against the wall, terrified. There was a rustle and a sudden flash of black near Zim's desk.

"Zim!" Ms. Bitters hissed. "I will not have disembowlments in class. The school has to pay for the trauma therapy. Either wait until lunch or suffer. "

Zim frowned and shoved the small child into his desk. Ms. Bitters swooshed back to her desk, ignoring the petrified children against the wall.

"Children, today we are talking about the meaning of life. There is none. Life is pointless…."

The students slowly inched from the wall and retook their seats. After several minutes of Ms. Bitters' lesson, there was no movement except for the occasional eye twitch or drip of drool. Zim played idly with his laser, carving the Irken symbol into his desk. After having Bitters for 8 painful years (something relating to the skool budget), skool had become less about information retrieval and more about keeping tabs on Dib. Then Dib was gone- graduated. Zim didn't know what else to do except keep showing up.

Zim glanced out the window at a tree across the street. Most days he could see Dib in the branches, either clutching binoculars to his face or furiously writing notes, but the tree had been empty for the last few days. What was the Dib planning?

"The gophers! He knows about the gophers!" Zim yelled, leaping onto his desk. Every head in the class slowly turned to face him. He stared back blankly.

"Life has no purpose- go home now!" Ms. Bitters barked. The mass of teenagers ran out of the classroom shrieking and yelling. Zim noted with some irritation that, even standing on his desk, he was just barely as tall as his fellow students.

That was a point of contention for Zim. Surely someone as magnificent as Zim should have grown at least a little in the past 8 years. He shrugged and hopped off the desk. He considered bringing the child in his desk home to work on but decided to wait until the following week. His mission now was to find Dib before he found out about the gophers…

"Oh yes, Dib," Zim cackled. "You think you understand my gophers, but YOU WILL NEVER KNOW THE TRUTH!"

With a maniacal laugh, the Irken ran out of the room.

"Help meee..." whispered the tiny child in his desk.

Zim returned to his base. He ignored GIR, who was in the middle of watching that horrible show, and stepped into the trashcan. When he reached the main computer, he commanded,

"Computer! Activate tracking chip!"

The computer sighed, "Which one?"

"What do you mean?" Zim yelled, waving his arms in anger. "There's only one filthy human with a tracking chip!"

"Weeell," the computer moaned, "You remember when you decided to track pigeons in order to control the moon? There's a couple thousand birds with tracking chips in them."

"Oh yes," Zim murmured nostalgically. He'd forgotten about that one. That had been a most ingenious plan.

"Computer, activate oldest tracking device still in service!" Zim snapped.

The computer complied. A map of the city appeared with a small blinking dot appearing in the middle of it. Zim noted the location before climbing back into the elevator. When he reached the surface, he noted to his displeasure that it had begun to rain. Zim debated putting off searching for Dib but then thought about the gopher-related consequences. He growled and marched to the closet, pulling out a disgusting huuuman invention. Stupid and human as it was, this rain-repelling shield was the only practical way Zim could get out in the rain.

Zim poked the button to open the umbrella. Nothing happened. Infuriated, he whacked it against the wall. It popped open and knocked him onto the floor.

It was a severely pissed Zim that exited the house a few minutes later. Under the protection of the umbrella, he headed towards the location of the tracking chip.

Zim sneered in disgust. This section of the city was disgusting. He pulled out a small screen and checked the source of the chip. He was very close, a few blocks away. Zim was slightly confused. The gophers aren't located here. What is the worm-baby up to? Just then, Zim saw Dib emerge from a dingy shop a few blocks away. The boy pulled up his sleeve, inspecting something, though Zim couldn't see what. Dib abruptly pulled his sleeve back down and began walking down the street, straight towards Zim.

Zim waited for the meat boy to see him. He waited. And waited some more. Dib kept getting closer but didn't seem to see Zim. Deliberately, Zim stood right in the boy's path, confident he'd be noted. Dib pushed straight past him, not even blinking. Zim turned on his heel, furious.

"Dib-stink!"

Nothing. The boy kept walking. Infuriated, Zim picked up a small rock and flung it at Dib. It hit him squarely in the back. Dib straightened suddenly, hissing in pain. Zim frowned; he hadn't even thrown the rock that hard. Weak human. At least he'd gotten the response he wanted: Dib had turned around and was facing him.

"I know you know," Zim stated flatly. Dib stared blankly. Zim tapped his foot in annoyance.

"The gophers, Dib, you think you can stop me- BUT YOU CAN'T!" Zim laughed maniacally.

When he finished, Dib had already turned and begun walking down the steet. Zim snarled in fury.

"THAT'S RIGHT PITIFUL HUUMAN! Keep running! Fear Zim! The next time I catch you, you will suffer greatly! I will warp your very DNA so that not even your primitive computers recognize you!"

Dib froze. He turned around and began walking very quickly towards Zim. When he reached the Irken, he grabbed him by the shoulder tightly.

"Can you do that?" he asked, his voice haggard. Zim blinked. The human looked, well, dead. His normally pale skin was set off by the dark circles under the boys eyes. His eyes. They looked flat, dull. Zim shuddered and pushed the human's filthy hand off of him. He was acting too strangely. A spidery leg extended from the Irken's PAK. It jabbed Dib quickly in the arm. Dib staggered back, his eyes wide.

"W-what did you do, alien?" His legs collapsed beneath him before his mind fell into oblivion. Zim spoke into the communicator on his wrist, "GIR! I require assistance immediately!"

"Yes, my master!" GIR barked. Then he giggled. "I made fondue."

"GIR!" Zim yelled, exasperated. "Now!"

He switched off the communicator. Zim prodded the human with his foot. He was delighted at having finally captured the human but was distracted by Dib's unusual behavior. What is the human up to?

"GIR, place the human in the chamber!" Zim commanded from the control room. He watched the robot unceremoniously roll the boy into the center of the room before gleefully skipping out the door. Dib was beginning to stir, the sedative wearing off.

Zim flipped on the power switch, turning on the controls. This was the room he'd put the boy in many years ago in order to reveal Dib for the muffin-thrower he was. This time, however, instead of putting his mind in charge of the virtual reality projector, he instead linked the computers to the Dib's mind. He wanted to know what his foe was up to. He put on the goggles which put him into Dib's perspective.

Dib/Zim opened his eyes. It was dark. All dark. He was alone. Then a figure began to materialize near him. Dib/Zim recoiled in horror as a face came into view.

"No!" Dib/Zim cried as Professor Membrane appeared. "No! I ran away. You can't be here! Go away."

A gun materialized in Dib/Zim's hand. He pointed it at his father. One shot rang out. Then another. And another. Dib/Zim shot until the gun was empty. Blood blossomed from Membrane, soaking his white lab coat.

"Die! Why won't you die?" Dib/Zim yelled. Blood. So much blood. Membrane began laughing noiselessly. He stared at Dib/Zim, changing. Dib/Zim screamed. He was staring at himself, drenched in blood, laughing. The mirror-Dib laughed until blood came pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his eyes. Dib/Zim stared at this macabre, blood-soaked Dib.

"No! I'm not! I'm not! No!"

Another gun appeared. Another round of bullets into the mirror-Dib. Nothing happened. He stood there, pointing at Dib/Zim, silently laughing, blood continuing to stream from him.

Another gun appeared. This time Dib/Zim lifted it to his temple. And fired. Nothing. Again. Nothing. No stream of blood. No splattering of brains hitting the ground. Nothing.

Zim ripped the goggles from his face. He rubbed his face with a shaking hand, queasy as Dib's vision replayed in his head. The Dib is more insane than I thought. He stared down at the boy in the chamber, trying to make sense of it all.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._ Dib banged his head against the wall. He was furious at himself for being caught. The only reason he had avoided capture before was because he never _ever_ allowed himself to be distracted. That was the first and foremost rule of his life: focus on the mission. How could he have been so stupid? _I was weak._ He had gotten too caught up in his problems. _It doesn't matter that I'm a-_ He didn't want to dwell on the word. Too many thoughts were in his head, things he had never given a moment's thought to before. Philosophical, ethical, and even religious questions swirled around his brain. He shook his head, pushing the distracting ideas from his mind. He rubbed his arm absent-mindedly, thinking about what he had done in that place downtown. He'd let his self-pity take advantage of him. Dib gingerly felt his arms and back, hissing as his fingers brushed the still-sensitive skin.

"I don't care!" Dib muttered angrily. His first and foremost priority was getting out of Zim's base. He cursed himself again for getting stuck in here. He glanced around the chamber he was in. Why did it seem so familiar? He thought back. Dib couldn't seem to place the room in his memory.

He looked around again, spotting a window into what looked to be a control room forty feet up the wall. He craned his head, trying to see if Zim was in there. Unable to see anything, he decided to risk detection. Pressed against the wall, he moved until he was directly beneath the window. He glanced up, noting that the smooth metal surface extended all the way up to the control room.

"I knew it was a good idea to install magnets in my shoes," Dib declared. "Wait- why _did_ I think that was a good idea?"

Unable to remember why he'd done this, Dib shrugged and began the precarious climb to the control room.

Zim skipped gleefully into the main computer room.

"Computer! Connect me to the Tallest!" In his confusion over Dib's behavior, he only just grasped what he had achieved. Finally he had captured the human. After eight years of endless frustration, his primary enemy was finally in his clutches.

"Earth will now be MINE!" Zim crowed in delight. The computer screen flickered, and then connected to the Massive's communication system.

The Tallest came into view; they were sprawled across a couch, laughing hysterically.

"My Tallest! My Tallest! Hey, my Tallest! ¡Mis más altos! My Tallest! Mon plus grands! My Talleeeeeeeeest!" Zim screeched.

Tallest Red looked up, wiping a tear of laughter from his eyes. When he saw Zim, he burst into laughter again, clutching his sides and rolling off the couch and onto the floor.

"My Tallest, I bring most excellent news regarding _the mission_!" Zim said, his antennae perking excitedly.

Tallest Purple, wheezing for breath, gasped, "Go on Zim, tell us your 'big news,'" before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

"Excellent to see that my Tallest are also filled with such joy. Fear not, this fffffilthy planet with soon belong to the Irken Empire. I now have the filthy worm-baby _Dib_ contained in my base. Through an _ingenious_ plan of my own creation-"

Zim broke off, noticing that the Tallest were not paying him the slightest attention. They were whispering to each other.

"Should we tell-?"

"Yes! Do you-"

"Do you want to-?"

"Let's both-"

"Okay."

Tallest Red and Purple both turned to face Zim with pleased grins on their faces. Red coughed and tried to put on a serious face. This failed miserably and only caused Tallest Purple to giggle again. Red nudged Purple in the side and shushed him.

"Zim, you remember Invader Tak?" Red asked eagerly.

"My Tallest! How could I ever forget that terrible female?" Zim cried. "Oh, the disGUSTing lies she told!"

On hearing this, the Tallest burst into another giggle fit. Purple, his face flushed dark green from laughter, exclaimed,

"That's just it Zim! They weren't lies!"

"What?" Zim asked in confusion.

"They weren't lies!" Purple cried again.

"What?" asked Zim.

"They weren't lies," Purple said with less enthusiasm.

"What?" asked Zim.

"They. Were. Not. Lies," Purple restated, his eye twitching slightly.

"What?" asked Zim. Before Purple's head exploded, Red hastily interjected,

"But the good news is- we finally figured out how to do it!" This statement seemed to restore Purple's earlier good cheer.

"My Tallest, what are you-"

"Now this- this is the best part," said Purple, bouncing up and down with excitement. "This is where we get to tell _you_!"

"My Tallest, if you have any doubts about my mission, I would like to reassure you that-" The Tallest once again burst into laughter.

"I can't wait any longer," said Red eagerly. "Zim, we're deactivating your PAK!"

At the look of confusion on Zim's face, Red yelled, "Look! Look at his face! Ha! I told you he'd look just like that!"

"You're right!" said Purple exuberantly. "Hey, someone in the back, can we get this recorded?" A camera zoomed in on the screen. Zim, his antennae quirked, was confused.

"But, my Tallest- I- wait, execution? I have faced no trial, the- the control brains haven't-"

Tallest Red sighed, "Unfortunately, no execution. We didn't feel like going all the way to the Control Brains to wait for that. Bye Zim!"

Once again laughing their heads off, the Tallest cut the transmission.

"My Tallest?" Zim called. "My Tallest? That was a most excellent jest, Almighty Ones. May I please update you on my mission?"

Zim stood there, waiting for the transmission to reconnect. He didn't doubt for one moment his Tallest had been joking. There was no other comprehensible explanation. Zim waited and waited, staring at the now-fuzzy screen. Who knows how long he would have stood there had not Dib suddenly fell through one of the ceiling pipes and onto Zim. Before Zim could push the human off him, Dib was up and running, headed for the elevator that led to the upper area of the base and freedom.

"You will not escape, filthy Dib-worm!" Zim yelled. He leapt to the computer keypad and typed in a series of symbols, initiating a complete lockdown. By the time Dib reached the chute, it had already been blocked by a grid of lasers. Dib spun on his heels, furious.

"Let me out, _Zim,_ " he spat. He'd been so close to escaping, so very close. Glancing at the keypad, Dib realized even without Zim's interference, he'd never be able to shut off the lockdown. He looked back at the Irken, noting he looked even more sickly than usual. Zim's skin was clammy looking, and for a second Dib thought he saw sparks shoot from the Irken's back.

"Never, Di-" Zim broke off as a searing pain shot through his spine. His back arched as the pain reached his head. He grabbed his head, falling to the ground, seeing red. _Pain. Pain. Pain._ All he could feel was fiery pain. It burned its way through him in ragged jolts, reaching all parts of his body. His hands grabbed at his head, fingers twitching, needing something to concentrate on other than pain. Dib watched as Zim fell to the ground, shrieking in what must be Irken. His back arched so severely Dib thought it would snap. The alien bit his lip until he broke the skin, causing a trickle of dark green blood to fall from his mouth. As Zim twisted on the floor, his screams echoing throughout the chamber, Dib backed away from the invader, unnerved by what he saw.

It seemed like hours, though it could have been only a few minutes. Dib, having backed as far into a corner as he could, continued to watch with a horrified fascination. Abruptly the Irken ceased all movement and sound. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, panting, his skin pale. Zim's head felt heavy and everything looked fuzzy around the edges. Noticing Dib in the corner, he weakly said, "As I said, Dib, you'll never esca-" _Clunk_. The sound echoed throughout the computer room. Zim stumbled forward slightly, feeling lighter. Feeling he as if he were in slow-motion, he turned to look behind him not wanting to see what he knew was lying on the floor. His hands reached around behind him, hoping to feel what was no longer there. Hoping to feel the smooth, warm device that was part of his very existence. All his slender fingers felt was the ripped edges of his Irken uniform and the bumpy unnatural feeling of an empty data port.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as Zim turned his back on Dib, the man sprang into action. He lunged forward, shoving the diminutive alien aside and grabbed the PAK from the floor. He spun around, facing Zim, now sprawled on the floor.

Zim, normally manic in his movements, lay there. As the cold seeped into his face he felt- no, not felt, feeling was for things that were _there_ \- he tried to wrap his mind around the empty space where his PAK used to sit.

When Zim finally rose, leaning against the wall, he raised his arm towards the PAK being held high above his head.

"Let me out, _Zim_ ," Dib said triumphantly, "or I'll split this thing in half."

Zim jumped for the PAK, landing roughly and stumbling to one knee. It was unclear if he'd even heard Dib.

"Give... _back,_ filth," Zim wanted it, needed to hold it. _It's mine. It's me. I can fix it... somehow._

"Shut down the security, Zim, I mean it," Dib said, holding the PAK even higher. He relished the power he had over Zim. For the past few weeks, Dib had bounced back and forth between the couches of local members of the Swollen Eyeball Network. During the days he'd stay out of their way and wander the city, picking up shitty odd jobs when he could find them. As disinterested as he'd been when Zim found him, he was starting to feel the hot, prickling rush of obsession the alien brought out in him.

He wondered how important the PAK was to Zim's existence. _Could this be the end? Then what?_ He dangled it tauntingly over the short alien.

"C'mon Zim, you better hurry up. How long can you survive?"

Zim swayed on his feet. He staggered past the infuriatingly tall human and stood before the keypad. His hands automatically reached out to type the code. He couldn't remember it. Zim blinked, confused. While he struggled to recall the code, a handful of sparks shot out of the PAK port in his back.

His twitching fingers tentatively typed in a number sequence.

" _Wroooong,_ " the computer moaned. Zim tried to concentrate but failed, his memory fuzzy. Unbeknownst to him, more sparks fired out of his back. He typed in another string of numbers. Rejected.

"Stop messing around!" Dib said. He tossed the PAK in the air, nonchalantly catching it with one hand, enjoying seeing Zim's eyes widen in fear. The normally indignant alien was unusually quiet, pale and clammy, and his antennae drooped down. Dib watched as he tried one more code.

" _Wrong! Security override. Intruder alert. Initiating full lock-down and containment!_ " the computer boomed. All parts of the underground base were blocked off by more laser-grids as the overhead lights shut down. A hissing sound filled the room as the computer automatically began to fill the base with gas.

 _"Have a swell day! Long live the Irken Armada!"_ the computer chirped cheerfully.

Dib squeaked as ominous clouds of teal gas drifted towards him. Zim was standing there like a moron, still typing in useless codes, sparks flying from his back left and right. Dib grabbed Zim's shoulder.

"Call it off!" he said, smashing the PAK against a computer console. Zim shrieked.

"No! Don't-" he grabbed for his life-giving device. His fingers dug deep into the flesh of Dib's arm; Dib pushed him off, gagging as the gas reached him. He repeated,

"Call it off!"

Zim looked at him, his mouth dry.

"I can't remember. No!" Zim yelled as his precious PAK was thrown across the room

Dib turned away from the Irken and looked up to the ceiling vent through which he had initially entered the room. The ceiling, too, was sealed off with a grid of lasers. The gas was everywhere- in his mouth, nose, lungs.

"Oh come on!" Dib said hoarsely. "Knocked out twice in one day? That's not f-"

Zim watched through glazed eyes as Dib collapsed. He inhaled deeply, the gas sending a prickling feeling through his body. Zim took a shaky step towards his PAK before falling flatly on his face. Unknown to him, a small camera in the room watched. On the other side of that camera sat the Tallest, now completely hysterical.


	5. Chapter 5

Zim woke, his jaw aching and teeth clenched. He was curled up in as small a ball as possible, his arms wrapped around himself. Zim was in pain. Not the searing agony that had shot through his body hours ago, but his bones felt as if they were stuck with pins. Zim was filled with an aching, incessant need, a want that he did not know how to stop or explain. If Irkens understood the concept, Zim would have known he felt lonely. He sat up, tight-faced and pale, antennae twitching senselessly. His trembling fingers traced little nonsense patterns on the floor.

"Computer," Zim croaked, irritated at how weak his voice sounded. There was no response. Opening his eyes, Zim saw that his base was devoid of activity, all his equipment shut down. Blocking off all exits from the lab were laser grids which glowed menacingly.

"What is-," Zim squeaked, enraged. Then he remembered. The Tallest. His PAK. His _PAK_! Zim fell back against the metal wall, wincing as cold metal brushed against skin that used to be covered by his PAK.

"Where is it?" Zim muttered. He looked about frantically. It was hard to see more than a few feet in the dull glow from the lasers. On his hands and knees, the Irken searched every dark corner of the room. Zim blinked repeatedly. His vision was blurry and refused to clear, hindering his search. His arms and legs trembled, making movement clumsy and slow. He trusted his twitching fingers to find what he wanted. Finally, his hands brushed against the cool curve of his PAK. Zim clutched it as his trembling spread to his entire body.

For minutes Zim just held his PAK to his chest and focused on slowing his breath and calming his body. Finally, when the tremors subsided, Zim opened his eyes, flipped his PAK over, and inspected the connection interface for damage. The three, feathery, metal tendrils that had previously run up and down his spinal chord were there, seemingly intact, but they were curled up tight like fiddlehead ferns instead of lithely seeking their host. Zim raised the PAK over his head and brought it down between his shoulder blades. He held it down to his skin, waiting to feel the white-hot pain-pleasure of tendrils rushing back into his body. Nothing. He raised the PAK and brought it down again. Still. Nothing. Again and again he brought the PAK down on his back until he was slamming himself over and over and over.

"IneedmyPAKineeditineeditican'tlivewithoutitohirkpleasepleaseplease," Zim whispered.

The only reason a PAK would not reconnect is because it has been completely shut down. And the only way that could happen was by direct order. It didn't happen accidentally. The Tallest meant to do this. Zim knew what would happen, just as any Irken soldier had been warned of this most horrible punishment. His body would not be able to survive without the essential chemicals and nutrients provided by the machine. He would go through withdrawal and slowly starve while his mind fell into chaos and dementia. His duty as an Invader was to accept the decision of his Tallest and await his demise. He was supposed to resign himself to his fate with pride. In his death he would be serving the will of the Irken Empire, and therefore it was nothing more than another order.

"But-but I am ZIM!" Zim protested quietly, devoid of his usual zest. Zim's already deteriorating vision blurred. A peculiar sensation ran through his body, tightening his throat and making him feel sick. Zim didn't like it. He weakly threw the PAK away from him, hoping to rid himself of the odd sensation trickling through his mind and body. Instead of a clang, Zim heard a muffled thud followed by a loud, "What the fu- oh shit!"

Dib scrambled into view, looking considerably disheveled. He had been sprawled on the floor where he had been knocked out, only a few feet from Zim. He glanced around, looking for a quick escape. When he saw the laser grids, his shoulders dropped. Finally Dib's eyes settled on Zim.

"What the fuck happened to you?" he asked bluntly. Subtlety had never been Dib's strong point. However, it was hard to be subtle about Zim's appearance. Crouched against the wall, Zim seemed unable to keep still, constantly fidgeting. His large red eyes were dull, and he was grinding his teeth.

"None of your business, meat-sack," Zim spat hoarsely. He glared at Dib. Just because his mission had been aborted did not mean he hated Dib any less. Six years of unabated animosity could not be forgotten. Dib glared back. Several minutes passed. Still they glared. Somewhere in the world a cricket chirped.

Finally Dib coughed, then asked, "Let me guess, we're stuck in here because you're a fucking moron?"

Zim didn't respond, still busy glaring. Dib thought about continuing to goad the alien then sighed. Without Zim fighting back, Dib felt the deadening weight of everything he'd bee through come flooding back. He was too messed up right now, all these _fucking feelings_ distracting him. He leaned against the wall, the perfect picture of teenage angst.

"So, you broken or something?" Dib asked, jerking his head towards the PAK on the ground. Zim hissed in reply. His limbs still aching, Zim extended his legs, then looked at his feet, puzzled. They looked smaller. He blinked his weakened eyes a few times, but his feet remained tiny. Upon further inspection, Zim realized that they weren't smaller, but were instead further away. He looked up and saw that Dib also looked confused.

"Zim, stand up," Dib said. Zim hesitated, not wanting to obey the human.

"I am standing up because _I_ want to. Not out of any desire to obey _you,_ " Zim spat. Using the wall for support, he rose. Drained as he was, Zim couldn't help giving out a squeal of excitement. For the first time in years, Zim could look Dib in the eye. He smirked. To be this tall would bring him great power in Irk. Perhaps the Tallest had merely been testing him? They knew of his imminent growth and decided to test his strength and loyalty to the Irken Empire.

"Yess," Zim hissed. A strange bubbly feeling arose in his chest. It made him feel indifferent to all the aches and pains in his deteriorating body. He felt indifferent to the presence of Dib. It didn't matter, he was so- Zim shook his head, evaporating the sensation as fast as it had arrived. The lack of his PAK was already affecting his mind.

Holding the wall for support, Zim edged over to the main computer. He prayed the emergency transmission still functioned. After all, the Tallest must have left him some way to communicate them once he discovered that this was just a test. He tentatively pressed the transmit button. A large 'loading' symbol appeared. The program began to load in almost microscopic increments. Zim stared at the screen then staggered forward, another wave of weakness shooting through his body. He slid down to the ground, leaning his forehead against the computer console, shivering. Even worse than the physical symptoms were these mental waves of- Zim didn't know what to call them. It was probably brought on by the withdrawal from his PAK nutrients.

Dib peered at the Irken slumped in front of the large computer screen.

"Zim?" No response. "Wow, you really are broken, huh?"

Dib sighed and sat down. For the millionth time in three days he looked down at his hands, flexing and clenching his fingers.

"These aren't my fingers, " Dib whispered. "Nothing about me is mine." He looked at Zim and his face hardened. "The only thing that's mine is _him_. The only thing that Dad never had-or wanted. I have Zim. He's mine."

Dib made a face. He felt pretty pathetic right about now. Normally he cultivated a relatively focused state of mind. Zim was the only thing that could make him excited, or disappointed, or any emotion really. He'd decided to do that after an especially nasty after-skool beating had left him crying. He'd been so disgusted with himself, crying due to his inferior classmates. He had never wanted them to have any power over him again. Not having feelings ended up being the easiest way to do this.

Now his mind was completely shot. He'd always assumed that "teenage hormones" had skipped over him, giving Gaz a double-dose instead. Nope, looks like his were present and accounted for. All it took to make them come out was some life-altering trauma. He stared absently at Zim who was crouched in the corner by his transmitter. Then Dib spotted his backpack underneath a console.

Glancing again at Zim to make sure he was still paying no attention, Dib scurried over to his backpack, grabbing the discarded PAK on his way. Though he kept telling himself that he didn't give a damn about Zim or his plans anymore, it was hard to let go of the one thing, the one person, that had given his life meaning for so long. He turned the PAK over in his hands, admiring the sleek design. He brushed his fingers against the three furled tendrils, and glanced back at Zim. He saw the port in the alien's back and wondered what functions the PAK provided. The device must hold a myriad of information on the Irken race and defective clone or no, Dib was not going to give this opportunity up.

Looking back at the PAK he noticed a small panel under the tendrils. Dib popped it open and looked at the maze of wires. He pulled a few cables and his laptop out and looked at the PAK. With the help of some wire strippers and cutters he managed to connect his laptop to the device. Crossing his fingers, Dib turned on his laptop. He gasped as his computer recognized a foreign device. His face illuminated by the glow of the screen, Dib gave a small smile as streams of Irken data flowed from the PAK into his computer.


	6. Chapter 6

_Holy fuck._ Three hours later, and Dib was still astounded at the data streaming into his laptop. There was just so much data stored in the PAK, more than he had ever anticipated. It was raw, dense information, and it would take him a while to make sense of any of it, but after so many years of scraps Dib was in awe of how much he now had at his fingertips.

His shoulders ached, and his neck twinged. Realizing he'd been kneeling in front of his computer for hours, Dib set the laptop down on the floor and stretched his arms over his head. His back creaked and popped, and a sharp, searing pain shot through his left hand. Dib winced and drew his arm to his chest. He'd forgot. Being.... engaged with Zim again had distracted him from everything that had been his life recently.

Dib rolled up his sleeve and looked at his hand. Within hours of escaping the lab the skin had bubbled up, turned white, and then peeled off the palm of his hand. He had been so panicked, so full of fear and adrenaline, that it hadn't been until late in the night that the thin, excruciating needles of pain had started to register. Dib had used a few crumpled bucks in his coat pocket to buy a bag of ice, and then he'd hid in an alley, gasping as he alternated between the deep, aching pain of the ice and the sharper pain of the burn.

It was way past time to change the bandage. Dib dug around in his backpack and pulled out a role of bandages, gauze pads, and burn cream. His hand brushed against his LED lamp, and he grabbed it, realizing the glow from his laptop was insufficient. After turning it on, Dib looked around him for a sink before realizing how stupid that was. He had a bottle in his backpack... _On second thought, better save that._ Still, the idea of cleaning his hand without water was intensely unappealing.

"Hey, Zim?"

He picked up the lamp and waved it around.

"HEY, lizard boy! Do you have any water down here? Like, for experiments, or something?"

Nothing. Zim remained slumped in front of the computer console, his antennae twitching. Dib sighed and looked down at his hand. He peeled off the outer bandage and looked at the gauze pad stuck to his palm with a mixture of cream, pus, and scab. Wincing, he grabbed the corner of the gauze and began to delicately peel it away.

A shriek erupted from Zim. Dib jumped, let go of the gauze and twisted to look behind himself. The shrieking continued, high-pitched and unceasing.

"ZIM!" Dib yelled, covering his ears with his forearms. "ZIM! WHAT THE FUCK? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!"

He grabbed the lamp and stood up. The light spread to show Zim lying on the floor, his spine arched back and his eyes opened wide. It was like something out of an exorcism movie. And that scream. Dib couldn't stand it any longer. He walked over to Zim and knelt next to him. Dib snapped his fingers in front of Zim's eyes.

"Hey! Hey! Earth to Zim!"

He slapped Zim across the face. The scream cut off. Zim looked up at Dib, his red eyes wide and frantic.

"Box!"

"What?"

"Box! T-t-tactical..... BOX!" Zim swung his arm towards the console.

Dib brought the lamp towards the console and saw a small black case beneath it. He leaned over the alien's rigid body and grabbed the box, pulling it over. He opened it to find an assortment of bandages, syringes, and knives.

"M-M-Mirforn!" Zim gasped through clenched teeth. A keening, desperate whine began, though the alien kept his teeth clenched shut.

Dib rifled through the syringes with his right hand, hoping his grasp of Irken was sufficient. Finally he found the mirforn. He grabbed it, then looked at his left hand. The old gauze was still covering most of the burn, but the wound was oozing and sore.

"Give me a minute. I have to wrap this before-"

"DON'T LEAVE ME!"

Never had Dib expected those words from Zim, or from anyone. He looked down, stunned.

"Zim, I can't inject you with one hand. I will be right back."

He grabbed the lamp and rose, walking back to his backpack and supplies. The screams started again, rising and falling in pitch but never stopping.

_Shit. Fuck. Shit. What the fuck is happening??"_

Dib fell to his knees and grabbed the bandage roll. He sloppily wrapped his hand and shoved the rest of the roll in his pocket. He stood and turned back to Zim.

_Maybe he's dying. Maybe I should just wait it out._

But the screams were too horrifying. He felt like he would go insane if they continued. He walked back to Zim and dropped to his knees. He grabbed the- the _mirforn_ and  looked down at Zim.

 _Hope your anatomy is humanoid._ He slapped Zim again, breaking off the scream. 

"I'm back, I'm here. Just shut up, and bite down on this, ok?"

He grabbed Zim's arm and peeled off the glove before rolling up the sleeve of Zim's red and black uniform. _Thank god_. He saw a vein pulsing in the crook of the Irken's elbow. He rubbed the spot with his thumb and was momentarily distracted as a chill swept through his body. Here he was, touching Zim, examining his body, after so many years of foiled schemes.

 _Later._ _Think about this later!_

Dib tapped the vein a few times and took the cap off the syringe with his teeth. Zim's body was completely rigid again, but Dib put his knee on Zim's chest anyway, in case he started seizing. The needle slid under the Irken's skin, and Dib slowly pressed the plunger down until the barrel was empty. The effect was almost instantaneous. Zim's body went limp, his head rolling to one side. The scream trailed away and was replaced with a long weary sigh. Zim's eyes flickered shut.

For a few minutes, Dib watched, waiting to see if another injection would be necessary. He took his knee off the alien's chest and sat back on his heels, looking down at the limp form.

 "Christ. What was that?" He looked back at the PAK, still streaming data into his laptop. "What's _in_ that thing?".

Looking down, Dib realized he still had his hand wrapped around Zim's upper arm. A drop of dark green blood had beaded up at the injection site, not enough to need bandaging. Dib's thumb brushed across Zim's skin, and he felt a chill go up his spine. Zim's skin was cool and scaley, but it was soft too, more like a snake than a lizard. He leaned closer, and his right hand began to trace a vein down to Zim's wrist.

_I could find out so much. I should tie him down, strip him. I'll never get this chance again._

Something in Dib's stomach twisted. The alien lay beneath him, completely helpless, unable to stop him. Dib took his hands off Zim and rubbed them on his pants.

_Nah. I don't have the right equipment. I wouldn't learn very much._

That's what he told himself; Dib couldn't admit that it felt... _wrong_ to take advantage of the alien like that. He stood up quickly and walked back to his side of the room. His hand needed to be bandaged properly, anyway. Plus, a beep from his computer announced that some of the PAK data had been decrypted and was ready to be looked at.

Dib plopped down and, for the second time, began unwrapping the bandage on his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Zim turned over, swatting his hand over his head.

"GIR... stop... ultra badger... malfunction..."

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Zim groaned and wrapped his arms around his head, shielding his antennae. The pounding continued, and he realized it was inside his head. Zim took a mental inventory of his body. His muscles ached, and there was a slight, persistent tremor running through his limbs. Beside the headache, Zim's brain felt thick and heavy, like it had been replaced with waffle batter.

One red eye cracked open, and he glared at the blue-white glow on the other side of the communication chamber. There the human sat, white face illuminated by his computer. Zim hissed in rage. Sitting next to the Dib-worm, _connected to the human's device_ , sat Zim's PAK.

_He doesn't get to touch that. NO ONE GETS TO TOUCH THAT._

The alien slowly raised himself off the floor so he was sitting against the wall. As quietly as possible, he dragged the tactical box towards himself, keeping an eye on Dib. The human was wearing headphones, completely oblivious to anything around him.

Zim looked through the box for a weapon. His best tools were lost to him, bound up in the mechanisms of the PAK. He picked up the remaining syringe of mirforn and studied it. The injection would kill Dib quickly, leaving Zim alone to accept the fate his leaders had chosen for him.

 _No more mirforn means no way to control the pain_ _._

He remembered agony streaking through his bones, pain cramming itself into every single cell in his body until he felt like he was being torn apart at a subatomic level. The tremor in Zim's hands increased, and the syringe slipped, nearly falling out of his grasp.

A jolt of fear shot through the alien, and he slowly, delicately lowered the mirforn back into the tactical box. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

_I am an Irken soldier. I am in control. My body is a tool of the Empire. It must comply._

Zim exhaled and opened his eyes. He raised his gloved hands up to his face and examined them. For about five seconds, his hands were completely still. Then a spasm. Five seconds passed. Another. Zim bared his teeth and slammed his fists onto the ground. It was humiliating to lose control of his body, to not be able to force it to act how he wanted it to.

Looking at the still-oblivious Dib across the room, Zim's grimace widened into a terrifying smile.

"You're going to die, human," he rasped. "I won't waste my precious mirforn on you. That would be far too kind, and Zim is not kind."

Someone had to pay for what was happening to him, and wasn't Dib to blame? Wasn't he the one who time after time had ruined Zim's plans? If it weren't for that scrawny man, Zim could have conquered this pathetic dirtball years ago.

Zim rifled through the box again, picking up and then discarding several tools.

_Sonic screwdriver? No. Phaser? No. Escafil device? No._

His fingers brushed against a cool, slender tube. Zim raised the six-inch long cylinder up to his face.

_So primitive. So much room for mess._

His thumb pressed a small button at the top of the tube. S _hhht-_ a long spike shot up from the cylinder. Zim tilted the blade, the light from Dib's screen just barely illuminating it. One quick jab at the base of the human's skull, and he'd be deader than Invader Skoodge on the planet Blorch. Zim pressed the button once more. _Shhht_ \- the spike was gone.

Scanning the room, Zim realized he'd need to crawl under the console and follow it around the curved room to reach Dib without being seen. He slipped the silver tube into the sleeve of his left glove, where it sat snugly against the inside of his forearm, inches below the spot where Dib had injected him hours prior. Biting his lip as his muscles protested the movement, Zim slid himself underneath the console and began slowly, laboriously dragging himself closer to his prey.

When he wasn't wincing in pain or fighting off tremors, Zim marveled at the size of his body. He estimated that he wasn't much smaller than the Dib-worm, and that meant he wasn't far from Tallest qualifications.

_Why did this happen? I haven't grown in two hundred cycles._

A spasm tore through his body, and Zim gasped. He grit his teeth. He would need more mirforn soon. He had to get to Dib, kill him, then get back to the syringe before he lost control. Antennae twitched furiously as he realized he should have brought the medicine with him instead of leaving it on the other side of the room. A picture flashed through his mind- Dib lay dead, blood pooling from the back of his head, while Zim, immobilized by pain, could only scream as the filthy blood inched closer and closer to his face. Zim shook his head vigorously.

_No time. Kill then get to the mirforn._

He inched forward a little more and reached the end of the console's cover. To get to Dib, Zim would have to stand up and step over a thick bundle of cables that normally provided his home with intergalactic connectivity. Another spasm, leaving Zim feeling damp and weak. One shot.

Zim grabbed the edge of the console and dragged himself upright, panting. He took the slender tube out of his left glove. One step forward. Then another. Dib was leaning so close to his laptop screen that his nose was almost touching it. The headphones in his ears continued to blast music, leaving him completely unaware of the tall, slender figure leaning against the wall to his right.

Another step. So close he could almost read the Irken characters reflected in Dib's glasses.

 _Pfft_ \- the spike was free. Zim moved the tube to his left hand. He'd need his right to pull the human's hair, moving his head away from the wall and exposing the base of his neck. He slowly stepped over the cables. The grin spread across Zim's face again, demented and wild. One more st-

Zim shrieked as a bolt of white hot pain shot through his head. The weapon dropped to the floor and rolled away. Zim fell to his knees, clutching his head and keening desperately. His antennae were completely overwhelmed, and every nerve in his body was consumed with crushing, agonizing pain.

Distantly, Zim felt his body collapse onto the floor. He knew he was still screaming, but it sounded like a distant buzz. He forced his eyes open just in time to see Dib's black boot come whipping at his face. The impact barely registered as pain, but it was enough to cut off the scream.

_Mirforn._

"P-p-please-I-" Zim gasped, fighting to get each sound out. It was like a million tiny red hot grains of sand were pouring down his throat while something jagged tried to rip its way out of his skull.

"Why. The. Fuck. Would I help you?" Dib shouted. He was on his feet, bending over the Irken. "Why shouldn't I just let you die?"

Hissing. Panting. Limbs contorted.

"Neeee-sssss-neeed me. Essssscape." Another shriek. Dib kicked Zim again, in the legs this time and with less force. "D-d-d-die without Zzzzzz-zim."

Dib kicked him again and gave a shout of frustration. He turned and slowly- much too slowly- walked to the tactical box. He squatted and grabbed the syringe. Zim squinted, trying to see what was taking so long. His organs felt like they were being turned inside out. Dib was just sitting there, holding the syringe in his hands, and looking at it. Zim wailed.

_I am Irken. I am strong. I accept death. Oh Irk, death- please- let me die. Stop this. Stopthisstopthisstopthis._

A hand had wrapped itself around Zim's upper arm while another peeled back his glove. Zim opened his eyes again and looked up at Dib. He didn't care that he must have looked weak and pathetic, mouth contorting around a cacophony of screams and moans. All he cared about was seeing that needle come closer and closer to his arm. As it broke the skin, Zim used the last of his strength.

"Nnnn-nnot all."

Dib paused. "Why?"

"L-l-last one. M-make it last."

Dib looked down at the syringe. "How much do-"

"A sixth."

The human looked doubtful. "Will that really do anything?"

"DO IT!" Zim shrieked, the pain creeping into every last place it hadn't already torn to pieces. He watched, red eyes over-bright with fear, as Dib carefully depressed the plunger one sixth of the way down. Zim whimpered when the needle came out, wanting the complete oblivion he'd experienced last time. After what felt like an eternity, Zim's muscles loosened. He was still panting hard, but his chest felt less constricted, less like it was going to implode. Drawing his legs up to his chest, Zim wrapped his arms around himself and buried his face into his knees. His body was no longer a tool, no longer under his control. For the first time in his long life, Zim was at the mercy of something he did not understand, and it scared him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weapon is based off the "alien stiletto" from X-Files.
> 
> I wanted to thank you all for your kind reviews. They mean the world to me. Writing is very therapeutic, and knowing you guys are enjoying my work gives me such joy.
> 
> Hopefully poor Zim gets a little break for the next few chapters. It's been a rough story for him so far!


	8. Chapter 8

Dib stared down at the alien, who was curled up on the floor and panting hard. His heart was racing, and he considered kicking Zim again. Headphones, lying on the floor, continued to blast music, which sounded tinny and flat from a distance.

" _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_ " Dib shouted before raising his foot and slamming it down onto the earbuds. _Crunch_. Again and again until there was nothing there but tiny shards of plastic and some mangled wires connected to nothing.

"You try to kill me for eight fucking years and almost get me because I'm listening to fucking _music_?" Dib screamed at Zim. He turned away and kicked the wall. As he did, something shiny caught his eye. Dib knelt down. He reached for the LED lamp and switched it on. There, lying against the wall, where it had rolled after Zim had dropped it, lay the slender silver tube with its long, lethal spike.

Holding it close to the lamp, Dib clicked the button twice, watching the spike disappear then reappear. He turned towards the alien, clutching the weapon in his hand.

"You better know how to get me out of here, spaceboy, or I'm going to pin you to the wall like the oversized bug you are."

He heard the alien take a deep, shuddering breath. His shoulders slowed their heaving before finally stopping. Zim slowly raised his head and looked Dib in the eyes. His mouth twisted in hatred, antennae flat against his head.

"Even like this, Zim is smarter than you will ever be, pathetic worm!" He spat, voice raspy and harsh from screaming. "I'll get you out of my base if it's the last-" He broke off, and for just a second, Dib saw something like fear flit across the green face. "-if it's the last thing I do," he finished.

Zim sat up, so slowly and carefully, like he was afraid every bone in his body was going to break. He looked around the room before pointing at a light grey panel on the floor next to the bundle of cables.

"There, go over there."

"No. You do it." Dib gripped the weapon more firmly in his hand. "Knowing you, it's a trap- something that'll turn me inside out or replace my organs with Christmas lights."

Zim hissed, his red eyes flashing. Dib smirked and leaned forward, holding the spike out in front. He jabbed it towards Zim. "Go on, you do it." Satisfaction filled him as the alien moved to stand up then disappeared as the alien's legs immediately collapsed beneath him.

_Christ. He really is fucked up._

Zim bared his teeth in a determined grimace and tried again, falling once more. Dib watched as the alien finally resorted to crawling to the floor panel. He looked back at Dib, his eyes filled with hatred.

"You love this, don't you, you dirty little maggot? To see the mighty Zim brought so low?"

"Just make with the repairs, lizard-face."

Zim dug his fingers under the edge of the panel and started to pull. Dib had just begun to wonder if the alien had the strength when the panel popped off. Zim tossed it aside, unaware that a thin sheet of perspiration covered his face. He pointed at a small case against the wall.

"Go to that. Fetch my tools."

Dib bristled at the imperious tone. He was about to retort that Zim could fetch his own damn tools when he saw a spasm pass through the other's body. Deciding couldn't stand the pathetic sight of Zim crawling to the case and back, Dib stood up and walked over to the case, spike still clutched tightly in his good hand. He rummaged around before gingerly wrapping his bandaged hand around a slim black case. Dib recalled Zim using this multiple times, usually in fruitless efforts to repair GIR. He held it up and looked back at Zim. The alien nodded.

Dib came back to Zim and sat down, dropping the case in front of him. Zim grabbed the slim container and opened it, revealing a variety of delicate instruments. He selected one and turned his attention to the mass of circuitry and wires that had been beneath the panel. Dib leaned over, curious to see the inner workings of the base. Zim looked back up and glared.

"I can't work with your filthy mouth breathing down my neck. Bring me your light source and get out of my way."

Dib flicked the spike in and out of its handle a few times, staring back with as much hatred in his eyes. He stood again, walked back to his belongings, and sat next to his laptop. He pushed the lamp so it slid across the floor to Zim who grabbed it without looking, his eyes back on Irken technology.

The alien tinkered away, sparks occasionally flying up. Dib, unable to see anything interesting from this angle, settled his computer back on his lap. The alien's antennae twitched when he heard the click-clack of typing.

"If you want me to fix this and release you, disconnect my PAK from your pitiful human computer _now_ ," he rasped.

"If you want _me_ to not smash your mirforn, you'll keep working on those repairs and let me do whatever I want with it," Dib replied calmly. He knew he had the upper hand here.

Another spasm shook Zim's body, making him gasp. When it passed, his hands resumed their work.

For several minutes, no words were spoken. Each being was totally engrossed in his own work. Finally, Dib broke the silence.

"Hey Zim, what's phla-phlyamorphis?"

The hands stopped. A spasm. The hands continued working.

"Stupid human. Irken growth hormone."

Dib frowned and scanned the data in front of him again.

"Why is there a phlyor-phlyamorphis suppressant routine built into PAKs?"

Zim dropped the tool and spun around.

"There isn't, that's why! You're too stupid to understand any of the data your looking at!" He turned back and leaned over the panel again. Dib grinned and leaned back.

"I may be human, and my tech may be primitive, but I'm not stupid, and you know it. This PAK is designed to suppress growth hormones. Is that why you're so tall now? When this thing fell off, did your body decide to catch up on all the growing it was supposed to do?"

Zim didn't answer. He continued poking and prodding with his tools, causing buzzing and zapping sounds. Dib's click-clacking resumed.

"Looks like this was installed on... the date is 8130.4? After your PAK had already been active for years. So this isn't a normal feature, is it? This was installed just for you."

Zim whipped the tool across the room, hitting a wall with a sharp clang. His hands grasped his head, and he bent over, face almost touching the circuits he'd been working on.

" _Shut up!_ " he yelled. "You have no right! You have no idea what you're talking about!"

Dib reached down to pick up the spike but hesitated, his hand hovering between it and the syringe. He couldn't tell if Zim was going to kill him or just start screaming again. Zim had never been stable, but there was a new tone in his voice, a desperation that bordered on the edge of hysteria. 

"You think you can understand _millennia_ of Irken technology and protocol and regulation after a few Earth hours of fiddling on your stupid little device?" Zim demanded. He spasmed again. His antennae were bolt-upright, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. "Are you really so fucking vain, that you think you can ever _fathom_ the decisions made-" He realized his mistake too late.

"Ha! So I'm right!" Dib crowed. "They did suppress your growth!"

Zim spat what was clearly an Irken curse. He was trembling, this time with rage.

"What was it they said- the Tallest? Something about Tak?"

Dib set his laptop aside and leaned forward, grinning.

"What were the alleged lies she told you, Zim? What?"

Zim said nothing. He sat there, staring down at the wires.  He held out his hand and waited. Dib sighed and fetched the tool. He walked over and placed it in Zim's hand before returning to his spot. Zim resumed his tinkering in silence.

Ten minutes later, the entire based groaned and hummed. Lights flickered on, and some of the panels. The communication screen resumed its static hiss. Zim delicately placed the tool back in its case, shutting the container with a soft click.

"She said I wasn't really an Invader," he whispered.

Dib blinked.

"What do you mean? You're here, your leaders sent you." It was inconceivable that his oldest enemy, his nemesis, could be anything less than a full blown, legitimate threat.

Zim grabbed the panel and slid it back into place over the circuits. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them.

"Yes. They sent me. I _am_ an Invader." His body trembled, then ceased.

Dib stared at Zim. Was it really possible? He shook his head. If Zim wasn't a real invader, that took away the only real thing in his entire life. He looked down at his hand and realized, glumly, that it was time to change the bandage again. He took his gauze, cream, and water bottle out of his backpack, setting them down in front of him. He started peeling away the outer bandage, hissing in pain.

Zim's antennae twitched, and he turned to look at Dib.

"What happened to your hand?"

Dib shook his head. "Nothing. I burned it."

"You did? So stupid. I thought you were at least smart enough to understand how to not injure yourself, meatboy." His voice was listless, only half-invested in the insult.

The outer bandage free, Dib peeled back the inner gauze and winced. He was no doctor, but the wound looked far from healthy. It was green and wet, and the white ring of skin around the edges of his palm was continuing to peel away. He needed to see a doctor, get some antibiotics.

"So what did you do, try to grab the fire you so-cleverly made with two sticks?"

Dib splashed some of his remaining water on his hand. He wadded up the used gauze and started dabbing away the pus and newly-dead skin.

Zim retched.

"That's disgusting. Are you trying to make your hand fall off, leaving disgusting germs all over Zim's base?"

"I don't suppose you have anything to help me?" Dib snapped. Once again, the Irken's hand shot out, pointing at another case.

"There. Sterile cloth." He pointed in another direction, at a slot in a wall. "Put your filthy, soiled materials in there."

Dib balled the bandages up in his hand and got up. He walked over to the slot and pushed them into it. Once he did a red glow and the whooshing sound of a furnace kicked in. He considered dropping the spike in there before realizing it was better for him to have a weapon than for neither of them to have one.

It turned out the case was, in fact, filled with an abundance of clean, white strips of fabric. He grabbed a stack and shut the case.

"Now go there." Zim pointed across the room at a blank patch of wall.

"Why?"

"Push the panel. It'll open, and you'll find water. Clean water, not the polluted shit that falls from the sky."

"Oh."

Dib walked back to his backpack to grab the cream before heading over to the wall Zim was still pointing at. He was pleased to find not just a bottle of water behind the panel but an actual sink. He ran his hand under the water, gently dabbing away the old cream, pus, and white layers of skin with some of the clean fabric.

"I grabbed a flask of hydrochloric acid and threw it at my dad. Some of it spilled on my hand."

He turned off the water and carefully dried his hand. He pushed the sink back into the wall and started wrapping his hand.

"Forgive me if I'm a little ignorant of your pitifully short life cycle, but aren't you a little old for a fit of 'teenage hormones'?" Zim asked. He was still kneeling on the floor, but his antennae were erect, and his eyes were focused on Dib.

Dib tied off the bandage and flexed his hand. It felt sore and stiff, but he hoped he'd staved off infection for a while longer.

"I'm not going to talk about it."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this next chapter done. My semester ended and my brain melted. If you are craving some really excellent ZADR in the meantime, you should check out some of [cupidity11's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidty11/pseuds/cupidty11/works?fandom_id=43537) work. They are an excellent writer, especially of exquisite ZADR smut.

"Is that what your perverted dream was about?" Zim asked slowly, savoring the wide-eyed, shocked stare he got out of Dib. The man opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

"How the fuck-" He spun around, coat twirling, and walked over to one of the hissing screens, fiddled with the buttons. "I said I'm not going to talk about it."

Zim took a deep breath and tried to stand again. His limbs felt like noodles, but he finally managed to get upright, leaning heavily on the wall. Every inch of him ached, and his skin itched. The mirforn kept the worst at bay, but his body was starting to feel the lack of nutrients provided by his PAK. It was hard to think clearly through the fog that engulfed his mind. His stomach gurgled. His training told him withdrawal would kill him long before starvation could, so there was no point in going hungry. He stared across the room to the doorway that led to his storeroom. There was a cabinet in there filled with bricks and bricks of emergency rations. Zim's fingers dug into his sides in shame as he realized he was too weak to get to the other room. The spasms, combined with hunger and shock, had left him with barely enough energy to lean against the wall. His mind was a thousand pinpricks of pain and confusion.

_Weak. So disgustingly weak. Absolutely useless- no wonder the Tallest left you to die you pathetic, mewling shred of garbage._

"Please..." he whispered. He coughed and repeated, more forcefully, "Please..."

Dib continued to puzzle over the buttons and knobs in front of him. Zim couldn't tell if the man hadn't heard him or was ignoring him.

Zim clenched his eyes shut as a stinging sensation hit them. Another side effect of withdrawal. He wrapped one arm across his chest as he felt his spooch clench. A tight, hot tingle was spreading from his chest up into his throat.

_You're going to die, and the universe won't know the difference. You've done nothing, conquered no one._

He moaned. The pain in his chest was making breathing difficult. Zim tried to inhale but failed as his throat gripped shut in a tight burst of pain. He tried again, panic rising as he felt the tightness again. His eyes were still shut against the stinging pain, and his antennae were quivering so hard their sensory input was useless. Zim gasped, a strangled, broken sound and slid back down to the floor, wrapping his other arm around his chest. It felt like he was standing at the very edge of a high cliff, teetering between solid ground and chaos.

\----------------

Dib tried to focus on the dials and levers in front of him, tried to ignore the rush of fear and anxiety that ran through him. He hadn't remembered the dream until Zim brought it up, and now it hung in his mind, vivid and painful. The hate, the fear, _the blood_.

Since the day he'd escaped, Dib's inbox had been flooded with emails from his father (it was too much to call him anything more accurate). They were pleading, kind, laced with platitudes and promises of explanations. Professor Membrane wrote that Dib had been exposed to a hallucinogenic compound, that he needed treatment to prevent further neurological damage, that he was missed, that Gaz was crying over her runaway brother, that if he had any sense of compassion he'd come home.

It had taken him a day to realize he needed to lose his phone. The morning after his escape he'd been getting off a bus, on his way to a meeting point with a member of the Network. Dib remembered how jittery he felt, how the pain in his hand was still streaking up his arm in nasty, needling jolts. He'd just crossed Orwell Bridge when his phone started buzzing. He'd pulled it out of his pocket and saw an unknown number. In an act of stupidity that now made him grit his teeth, he'd answered. There had been a string of cascading beeps, then the call disconnected.

Dib had stared down at the phone, terror worming its way through the numbness. They'd be coming, his dad's associates. They were tracking him. His head had snapped up and he'd seen a jogger, sipping from a fluorescent nalgene bottle. Dib remembered yanking the bottle out of the jogger's hand then punching the jogger when he'd protested. He'd dumped the water out and slipped his phone in before resealing it. Dib had run back to the bridge, unable to tell if he was hearing approaching helicopters or his own pounding heart, and chucked the bottle off the bridge. He'd watched the bottle bob up and float away for only a second before turning and running. _  
_

His dad couldn't track him through his computer; Dib had long ago modified it against any surveillance, Irken or human, but that didn't stop the emails. He knew he should delete the email address, or at least stop checking it, but was the one remaining, albeit painful, tether to his old life. Deleting it would require acknowledging who- no- _what_ he was.

_It's fine. Stop thinking about it. It doesn't matter._

Dib sighed and turned away from the display. The partial restoration of power had included a scattering of lights in the base, and Dib realized the subterranean lair was larger than he'd assumed. Though the exit to the outside world was still blocked off with lasers, two other doorways were clear.

"Hey Zim, what are those-" Dib stopped and realized he didn't see Zim. He looked around and saw the alien slumped on the floor, legs drawn up to his chest.

"Shit." Dib pulled the syringe out of his pocket and hurried over to Zim, dropping to his knees at the alien's side. Zim was making a weird sound Dib had never heard before, a series of low, squeaky croaks, like a baby crocodile or a really depressing squeaky toy. Dib put his hand on Zim's shoulder and shook it. He was desperate to get the injection over with before Zim started screaming. Dib hadn't thought seeing Zim in pain could ever concern him, but seeing Zim go through the last two attacks had made Dib feel sick.

He shook Zim's shoulder again, harder. Zim rolled over and looked up at Dib.

"Go away" he rasped. "I don't need mirforn yet."

Long damp tracks spread down Zim's face from his eyes, which were shiny and wet. After his PAK had fallen off, Zim had been slowly getting paler, til he was the color of pistachio ice cream. It had been like he was slowly being erased from existence. Now his face was much darker, with a sickly yellow undertone. Dib withdrew his hand, startled.

"You sure? You, uh, don't look too great, space boy. I'd rather inject you now, before the shrieking and the spasms get going." He absently tapped the syringe on the floor, examining Zim. He was still making that strange croaking, and spasms continued to shake his body at frequent intervals. Zim's antennae, pinned flat to the top of his head, were quivering. Dib had seen Zim look idiotic, pathetic, and ludicrious, but he'd never seem Zim look vulnerable.

"Won't need mirforn for another couple hours," Zim whispered between croaks. "This is what happens without a PAK. Without-" Zim broke off and croaked repeatedly. He took a deep, shaky breath. Dib realized what was going on, but before he could speak Zim continued.

"Without the nutrients provided by our PAKs, Irken bodies weaken, and our minds are destroyed. It takes a PAK-less Irken approximately 48 hours to die, by which point they are shrieking, insane animals, too weak and confused to care for themselves."

Zim spoke in a flat, detached voice, like he was reciting from a textbook, but he was clenching his eyes shut as more liquid seeped from them. Dib leaned back off his knees and sat on the floor cross-legged.

"Christ. That's a good reason to cry."

Zim opened his eyes and looked up at Dib, his forehead furrowed.

"Crying? Irkens don't cry. My mind and body are collapsing, not at all like a human's pathetic tantrum."

"Ah, there he is, the condescending extraterrestrial I'm used to," Dib replied.

Zim growled and forced himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the dizziness it caused. He poked Dib in the chest and hissed, "I. Am not. Crying. My body is reflecting the collapse of my mind. Do not dare compare this to a human experience. This is the most humiliating, the most dishonorable death an Irken can ever have. Everything I am is being stripped away from me, and the fact that _you_ are witnessing it is the most supreme humiliation of all. I can't- You shouldn't-"

Zim broke off as the croaking- the sobbing, Dib realized- overtook him. Zim leaned forward and grabbed Dib's shirt, pulling his face close close to his own.

"Help me. Oh Irk, I don't want to die like this," he sobbed.

Dib shoved Zim away, and the alien collapsed to the floor, croaking pathetically. Dib was floored. He didn't know what to do with this new, broken creature. Barely an hour ago Zim had tried to kill Dib, and now he was asking for help.

"I- fuck, why would I ever help you? You're- you're my enemy," he finished weakly. Zim suddenly sprung at him from the floor, hissing, and backhanded Dib's face.

"HELP? Why would I ever want your help, you disgusting pale little worm?" His antennae stood completely erect, and he straddled Dib's waist, wrapping his hands around the human's neck.

Dib choked as the Irken squeezed harder and harder, trying to shove him off. Zim's manic rage had filled him with strength that would have been impossible moments earlier. A wide, horrifying smile spread across Zim's tear-stained face as he watched Dib's face turn red.

Suddenly he went limp, his arms slipping away from Dib's neck. He collapsed forward onto Dib's chest and sobbed furiously into Dib's shirt. Dib gasped for air before shoving Zim off. The alien slid off him limply and lay on the floor, his croaks mixing with Dib's frantic panting.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dib groaned.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, go listen to some baby crocodile sounds. It's adorable and weird, and I'm in love with the idea of Zim making that sound.


	10. Chapter 10

His heart pounded in his ears as Dib took several deep breaths. He touched his neck, feeling the heat and grimacing at the thought of the bruises that would form there. He turned his head towards Zim, terrified that the alien would already be lunging at him. Zim lay there, curled into a fetal position and trembling. Dib's desire to get as far from Zim as possible was overridden by his body's need to simply inhale.

They lay there, barely three feet apart, both desperately trying to reassemble themselves.

Dib finally rolled onto his side, eyes never leaving Zim's body. He sat up and heard a dinging sound. Dib realized it had been happening for a while, but he had been too shocked to notice it. The sound was coming from his laptop, and he realized another chunk of data from the PAK was ready for him to examine. He couldn't help it, his whole body tensed in anticipation and excitement. He was desperate to dive into the wealth of information now at his fingertips. His father, his own existence, the pain in his hand, it all fell away when he thought about Zim. Any scrap of emotion or hint of turmoil Dib had experienced for years had been redirected onto the alien, turning Zim into a big complicated knot of feeling that Dib craved.

Dib got up and went to his computer. He picked it up and turned to scan the room, frowning. Spotting something conceivably related to a chair, in front of one of the sets of screens, Dib went to it and got himself and his laptop situated. He leaned back in the chair and began reading the data spilled across his screen. It was a very, very rough approximation of the basic, background functions the PAK served. Almost immediately, Dib leaned forward, his glasses only a few inches away from the screen. His dark brows furrowed as he tried to understand what exactly the PAK did.

He'd expected the device to be built to receive input from Zim's nervous system; that'd give him control over the various metal limbs and tools. Based on what Zim had told him, Dib had realized there would also be some output in the form of some kind of nutritional supplements, probably delivered into the circulatory system. What Dib was looking at deviated radically from anything he'd anticipated.

It had only taken a few minutes to skim through the data accounting for data received by the PAK from Zim's body. There was an additional function that seemed to be responsible for monitoring Zim's mental and physiological levels. Again, this wasn't too surprising if the PAK was responsible for providing some kind of vitamin or supplement. That was all fairly straightforward, comparatively speaking. It was the PAK's output routines that didn't make any sense. It definitely put _something_ into Zim, but there was no way it was directed towards Zim's circulatory or digestive system. Instead, whatever it was was being deposited into Zim's nervous system. That made no sense as a method to provide nutrients.

Dib leaned back from the computer and pushed his glasses up onto the top of his head. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking.

"Seizures, body pain, mood swings- fuck, having multiple moods at all. This is some Grade A invasion of the body snatchers-level shit."

A hand fell on his forearm, and Dib started, barely managing to keep his laptop from crashing to the floor. He looked around to see Zim kneeling to the left of the chair. A single gloved hand trembled as it rest on Dib's arm. Zim looked up at Dib.

"It's coming. I need more. I-," he swallowed and looked away. "Please," he whispered.

Dib slid his glasses back down over his eyes. He wanted to be an asshole, to shoot off a snarky remark, but there were too many questions shooting around his head. He ran his fingers through his black hair before looking down at Zim.

"I need something from you in exchange." He felt Zim's fingers clench around his wrist before the alien answered.

"I already told you I would get you out of here before- before I am unable. I cannot do that without the mirforn."

Dib shook his head.

"I don't care about that. I want something else."

Zim's antennae twitched upright. He looked up at Dib, his eyes narrowed.

"Stupid human. You're trying to trick Zim. If I don't help you get out of here, you will be trapped. What are you trying to do?"

Dib leaned over and grabbed Zim's upper arm. He pulled Zim up towards him until their faces were almost touching.

"No tricks. No games. I don't care if you get me out of here or not. That's not what I want in exchange for your little injections. What I want is information."

Zim opened his mouth before Dib covered it with his other hand.

"I don't want anything you can tell me. I want you to let me keep working on the PAK, I want you to give me access to your lab, and I want a sample of your blood. You give me those things, you get your mirforn. You don't, and-"

Dib took his hand from Zim's mouth and reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out the syringe and lightly depressed the plunger. A fat drop of mirforn beaded at the tip before falling to the floor.

Zim looked down at the spot before tilting his head back up to Dib. He brought his face close to the human's, looking into his tawny eyes.

"I _hate_ you," he hissed.

Dib raised one eyebrow. "We'll get to that. Do we have a deal?"

Zim jerked his arm free and fell back to a sitting position. He looked down at his spasming hands. He moaned as a bolt of pain shot through his chest. Zim looked back up to Dib, his red eyes bright and wet.

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Going to get back on a more regular update schedule from now on! Thank you all for your reviews!


	11. Chapter 11

Zim peeled the glove off his right hand and rolled up the sleeve of his pink and black tunic. He clenched the glove in his left hand as a convulsion ripped through his torso. He could feel the pain coming, like approaching footsteps vibrating through wood floors. Knowing the pain was imminent was humiliatingly paralytic. That was all it had taken for him to cave to Dib, knowing what was coming.

He held his arm out as Dib slipped off the chair and knelt onto the floor next to him. Dib reached out a pale hand grasped Zim's upper arm, while his other hand lightly brushed the injection site with his thumb. Zim hissed and jerked his arm away as a tingling warmth coursed through his skin.

"Pain?" Dib's voice was eager. He looked down at Zim's arm. "What happened? Describe it."

Zim extended his arm again and brought his left hand up to it. He gently placed a gloved finger to his skin, where Dib's thumb had just been. Again he hissed, but kept the finger in place. It wasn't as intense as the human's touch, but the gentle pressure was accompanied by a pleasurable sensation.

"No pain," Zim whispered. "Something else."

He slid his finger languidly down his forearm towards his wrist, basking in the smooth, mild tingle. He had never noticed the faintly scaled texture of his skin before and marveled at it. Zim very suddenly wanted to remove his other glove and feel his bare hand against his own arm, his face, his entire body. He had never felt anything like this and it was overwhelming and intoxicating, and he needed _more_. Zim had just begun to peel off his other glove when he froze, remembering that Dib was sitting right in front of him. He looked up at the human as he pushed his left glove back up over his uniform.

"It's nothing. Sensory malfunctions, probably due to my physical deterioration," he murmured, unaware of the dark green flush that had risen on his face and neck. He lurched forward, arms pressed against his chest, and exhaled sharply as another spasm passed through him. When the pain had passed, he inhaled with a small whimper and looked at Dib.

The human was staring at him peculiarly. His eyes were darting across Zim's face and down to his arm. Dib's hand, Zim realized, had fallen to Zim's thigh when Zim had jerked his arm away.  The human's slender hand was resting softly there. Zim could feel the heat through his leggings and _hated_ that it felt so calming. He looked back up and saw Dib was biting his bottom lip. His eyebrows furrowed.

Zim hissed and slapped Dib's hand away. He rubbed at the spot on his thigh where the human's hand had been, relieved as the heat quickly dissipated.

"Mirforn. Now."

Dib shook his head.

"Nope. Blood first."

"That's not-" Zim broke off and shut his eyes as a jolt of lightning shot through his head. He croaked weakly and shoved his arm at Dib's face. "There are empty syringes with the bandages. Take it _quickly._ "

He heard a rustle, and when he opened his eyes he saw that Dib was, at least, moving fast. Within seconds the human was kneeling next to him and again taking Zim's arm in his hands. Zim twitched at the sensation of Dib's hand against his skin but bit his tongue, focusing on that pain to distract himself from the soft warmth. A small sting as the needle entered and another as it exited, the vial full of dark green blood. He looked up at Dib.

"Have I earned the mirforn _now_ ," he spat. "Or are you going to demand something else from me?"

Dib was already holding the syringe up to the dim lights, examining it. He looked back to Zim, startled.

"Oh. No, that's enough."

He set the vial on the ground with a light _clink_ and picked up the syringe with the remaining mirforn. Zim looked away, trying not to do the math to figure out how much longer the medicine would last. Finally he felt the sting of the second needle entering his arm and sighed in relief. As soon as the needle was out he yanked his arm free of Dib's grasp and quickly replaced the glove. Zim flexed his fingers, hating that the glove cut him off from this newfound sensation and hating himself for noticing.

_I can't want this. I can't enjoy this. What's happening to me?  
_

Zim shook his head as a wave of drowsiness swept over him, relieved that he was maintaining consciousness. He couldn't afford to waste any more time sleeping. He looked up at Dib, who was re-examining the blood he'd drawn.

"You should know," Zim whispered, "that the only time an alien should ever be touching Irken blood is when he is standing over an invader's corpse after battle."

"Hmm," Dib responded absently, his eyes never leaving the vial.

"You should also know, you stupid, wriggling pig, that since you no longer plan to leave my base, I very much intend to kill you before I die. In fact, I am finding myself more and more willing to do it as primitively, messily, and painfully as possible."

Dib's eyes flickered to Zim and back to the vial.

"You promised me access to your lab. Cough up, space boy."

Zim clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

"No."

Dib rolled his eyes, put down the blood, and picked up the mirforn.

"I thought we had an agreement," he said and, never looking away from Zim, started to press down on the plunger. Zim's eyes widened.

"Stop it! You'll get your access. I need something from you first."

Dib removed his thumb from the plunger, and Zim sighed in relief. He pointed towards his storeroom.

"In that room there is a cabinet filled with emergency rations. Bring me three bars. Then I will unlock my lab."

Dib narrowed his eyes and started to shake his head before his stomach rumbled loudly. He sighed.

"Fine. But they better be edible for humans too. I'm fucking starving."

Dib walked across the room and pulled open the door leading to the storeroom. Once the heavy door clicked shut behind him, Zim's fingers were scrabbling against his left glove, desperate to peel it off. He raised his hand up to his face, examining the faint lines that crisscrossed his palm. His antennae twitched nervously before he delicately blew air at his palm. Zim shuddered as his breath rushed over his own skin. Hesitantly, Zim lifted his hand closer to his face and oh-so-gently brushed his fingertips against his cheek. It was so sweetly pleasing to feel his own body. His fingers drifted down to run along his jawline. Zim's eyes flickered shut as he tuned out everything but his sensations. He brought two fingers slowly up to his lips and gasped at their sensitivity. Zim traced their outline, feeling warmth spread from his mouth, to his neck, and down his chest. Unprompted, his tongue darted out to meet his fingertips, its tip feeling the tiny ridges and swirls that Zim had never noticed. That felt good, but his lips closing around his fingers felt even better. His teeth lightly clamped down, and even that slightly painful pressure caused the warmth in his body to spread even further, to places Zim had never been given names for. Places that were... _bad._

Zim jerked his hand away from his mouth, eyes popping open in alarm. He slammed his hand against the ground, and pain erupted. Normal, safe pain, not whatever had been happening before. Zim looked down at his bare hand.

"What on Irk is happening?" he whispered.

"That," a voice behind him interjected, "is an _excellent_ question, space boy."

 Zim jerked around to see Dib standing a few feet away from him, arms clutching a dozen ration bars. His spooch clenched.

" _Why?_ " He cried, feeling his eyes start to burn again, "Why do you have be here? Why can't I be _alone_ _?_ And why-" he lifted his bare hand weakly before dropping it back to the floor. "Why do I feel this way?"

Dib took three steps towards Zim and crouched to the ground, piling the ration bars on the floor in front of him.

"No clue, but I'm gonna find out." He slid three of the bars towards Zim then looked into the alien's eyes. "Lab code please."

Zim looked away then reached out with his gloved hand and grabbed the ration bars Dib had offered. "81375928 then the red button with two dashes on it."

Dib nodded and picked up two of the bars from the remaining pile and pocketed them in his trench coat. He stood up and walked over to the long, flat counter, bare but for a numeric keypad, next to where his computer continued to hum and beep. His pale fingers darted swiftly across the pad, as quick with Irken integers as he was with human ones.

Zim pulled his glove back onto his left hand, furiously blinking away the liquid blurring his vision. Dib's response was confusing. There had been no scorn, no derision, just the same intense curiosity. That did little to reduce Zim's feeling that nothing in the universe made sense anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Depression is overwhelming.

Dib leaned back in his chair, watching the machines busily hum. It had taken several frustrating attempts, but he'd finally figured out the panoply of test tubes and machines that had sprung up after Zim gave him the access code. He pulled his glasses off his face and rubbed his eyes. Exhaustion was permeating his bones. It had been a long time since Dib had enjoyed a _good_ night's sleep, but being on alert around Zim for so long was taking a toll.

Dib tore the foil off one of the ration bars and looked in disgust at the sticky, blue brick. His stomach growled. _Here goes nothing_. He closed his eyes and bit off a corner, grimacing at the texture. It seemed impossible that something could be so dense _and_ gummy _and_ taste like its primary ingredient was chalk. He swallowed and regretfully took another bite.

"I hope it kills you," a voice whispered next to his ear. Dib jerked forward before grabbing the counter to stop himself from falling to the ground. He whipped around to see Zim, standing upright directly behind him. He had to tilt his head up to look at the alien, an unnerving sensation.

"It might, you know," Zim stated flatly. His arms hands were clasped behind his back, and he was gazing at the equipment Dib was using. "Or it might not. I really don't know."

Dib grunted and bit off another chunk of 'food.' As he chewed he examined Zim. The alien was still pale, and Dib could see a tremor in his arms, despite Zim's best attempt to keep them still. That aside, the alien looked significantly better than he had since his PAK had been ejected. He was standing, for one, and for another he was gazing at the lab equipment with a cool, appraising gaze that was far removed from the manic, teary stare that had been dominating his face.

"Look at that," Zim murmured. "The little worm-baby figured out how to use something more complicated than rubbing two sticks together."

He glanced down at Dib haughtily. "Though Irk knows what he thinks he's going to find."

A sharp smirk spread across Dib's face. He leaned back in the chair and rested his booted feet on the edge of the counter, enjoying the annoyed expression on Zim's face.

"I think I'm going to find something about you and your species that'll blow your mind."

He reached down and pulled his laptop off the floor and into his lap. Zim glanced down the length of wire leading from the computer to the PAK resting on the floor and ground his teeth.

"Zim, tell me, why do Irkens have PAKs?" Dib asked, looking up at Zim with a shit-eating grin.

Zim rubbed his temple with one gloved hand, looking exasperated.

"Let's see," Dib continued, "There's the alien Swiss Army knife part. You've got your spindly little spider legs, some lasers, comm tools, et cetera. Then there's the health monitoring- vital stats, medical observation, all that stuff to keep Irken soldiers fit for battle." At this, Dib tapped his laptop screen, indicating that set of data.

"And what's third, Zim? What's the other thing you said the PAK does?"

Zim glared at Dib. The human smiled back and said nothing. Finally Zim growled, "Nutrients. Chemical supplements that keep us healthy and alive no matter what kind of planet or environment we're sent to."

"See, that's what they told you, in your academy or military school or wherever," Dib said, his fingers tapping away at keys until he brought up a different array of codes. "But if you ever took the time to look a little closer, you'd find something pretty interesting." He pointed at the screen.

Zim leaned down and peered over Dib's shoulder, so close his antennae brushed against Dib's hair. For a few minutes, the only sound in the lab was the dull hum of lasers and the whirring of the machine working on Zim's blood.

Dib hissed in pain as Zim's hand clamped onto his shoulder, fingers digging deep into his flesh. He tried to jerk away, but Zim held fast. The alien leaned closer to the screen, ignoring Dib's cursing. Zim turned his face to Dib, and Dib tried again to free himself. The manic, murderous look had returned. Zim's other hand grabbed the laptop by it's screen, and he pulled it out of Dib's lap before shoving Dib off the chair and onto the ground. Dib's head smacked against the floor, and he watched in a daze as Zim slid into the chair and bent over the laptop, scrolling inhumanly fast through pages and pages of data.

Dib propped himself up on his elbows, shaking the ringing out of his ears.

"Hey! Hey!"

Zim ignored him. Dib lay on the floor, furious. His hand slipped into his coat pocket, fingering first the syringe then the spike.

"Space boy! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he spat.

Again, Zim ignored him.

"Zim!"

Antennae twitched. Slowly, eerily, Zim turned to look at Dib. His eyes were bright with tears but his mouth was twisted into a vicious snarl.

"You're wrong," he hissed.

Dib stared back into the insane, red eyes. "I'm not. Data doesn't lie."

Zim grabbed the laptop by its screen and raised it over his head. "YOU'RE WRONG," he screamed and then Dib watched in perfect, petrified horror as his computer was thrown through the air before crashing into the ground. The screen fractured into a million splintered threads as the laptop bounced once before falling again to the ground and going dark.

Dib felt something inside of him freeze before becoming brittle and snapping. He threw himself at Zim, screaming.

"YOU FUCKER!" He grabbed the front of Zim's uniform and swung a fist at the alien's head. Zim's head snapped to the side before his hands dug into Dib's hair, pulling the human's face up into a vicious headbutt. Dib twisted his head, Zim's strike missing his nose but catching his brow bone, where the skin split. Blood dripped down into Dib's eye, and he shut his eyes against the stinging sensation.

Zim dropped to the floor, and Dib, hand still clutching his uniform, fell after him. Zim's knee came up to meet Dib's chest, and Dib gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He released Zim and pawed frantically at his chest, trying and failing to inhale. Zim grabbed Dib's wrists and shoved himself into the man, knocking him to the ground. Zim straddled Dib, pinning his arms to the ground.

Zim leaned forward until the tip of Dib's nose was brushing his face. Dib could feel the alien's breath on his face and the slight movement of his hips against Dib's as he panted.

"Does that make you angry?" Zim whispered. "Does seeing something so important rendered into useless garbage hurt you, _Dib_?"

Dib struggled against Zim's grip, but the alien's grip on his wrists remained firm. _Where the fuck did this strength come from?_

"I told you, didn't I? That I was going to kill you?" Zim continued. "You shouldn't have turned your back on me for a single second, you stupid, scrawny stick bug."

Dib's arms were pulled up over his head as Zim gripped both wrists with one hand, bringing the other slowly down to Dib's throat. Gloved fingers lightly grazed the skin pausing briefly over a fluttering vein. Dib shivered at the soft, menacing touch.

"Yessss," Zim hissed. "This will be fun."

He raised his hand to his mouth and used his teeth to delicately pull the glove off, finger by finger. Dib watched as Zim extended and flexed his fingers. He shuddered as the cool, smooth fingers came down to caress the underside of his jaw. Zim growled, the sound coming from deep in his chest, as he wrapped his fingers around Dib's already bruised neck and began to squeeze.

Dib's eyes widened, the white showing completely around his amber irises. His arms strained against Zim's hold and his hips bucked in an attempt to throw Zim off. Zim leaned forward, his chest flush with Dib's and his mouth next to Dib's ear.

"You are nothing," he hissed. "A waste of amino acids and carbon."

Dib's chest heaved, futilely trying to expel the old air and take in new. His feet scrabbled against the smooth floor, unable to gain purchase.

"Every single day you have lived has been a testament to how little you matter," Zim crooned. "Your body is a monument to the failure of DNA that is Dib Membrane."

Despite the panic rampaging through his mind, despite the burning in his lungs and throat, and despite the pinpricks of white light scattered across his vision, Dib felt hot tears at the corners of his eyes. He didn't know it was possible to cry without air, without lungs heaving to-and-fro against the hurt, but Dib knew very little, in all, about emotions.  Tears trickled out of his eyes and down the sides of his face, and his face twisted into a rigid mask of pain as everything Zim was saying rang true with the voice inside of him, the one that he'd been fighting to ignore since his father- since his creator had tried to kill him.

Zim sat up slightly, looking down at Dib's wet, red face. His head cocked to one side, like a dog hearing a new sound. He released his grip on Dib's neck in order to trace one finger down the tear tracks running across Dib's face. His eyes slipped closed in a stupefied expression.

Pain exploded in Dib's chest as he inhaled more deeply than he thought possible, the move accompanied by a squeaky wheeze from his compressed trachea. Even as air flooded into his lungs, clearing the fog from his mind, the tears continued to come, and sobs wracked his body. Aside from his lurching chest, the rest of his body lay spiritless beneath Zim's weight and grip.

Zim, meanwhile, had raised a tear-stained finger up to his face. His eyes were still lazily shut as he brought his fingertip to his lips and quivered. His tongue darted out and lapped away the tear.

A low, purring moan began in his chest as his tongue met the saltwater. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down at the wreck of a being beneath him. Beautiful, violently purple bruises coated the human's neck.

"This is _fun_ ," he growled, bringing his fingers back down to Dib's neck. "How many times do you think we can do this before one of us dies?"

Dib turned his head to the side, face still clenched in anguish. His breathing had slowed and deepened, and the tears had stopped flowing. He tried to speak, but the pain in his throat caused him to start coughing, which hurt even more. When he finally stopped, he swallowed the thick saliva in his mouth and tried again.

"Coward," he rasped. Zim's response was instantaneous. He leaned forward until he and Dib were face-to-face, his fingers tightening around Dib's throat again.

" _What_ did you say?" Zim growled. Dib swallowed again, careful to keep his arms completely limp.

"You're afraid to kill me," he said again, voice rough as sandpaper. "You don't know if you have it in you anymore, now that you know what really-" his voice ended in a squeak as Zim clamped his fingers down on Dib's throat. He released Dib's wrists and brought his other hand down to also wrap around Dib's mottled neck. Dib gagged at the increased pressure, wriggling his hips and twisting his head desperately. Meanwhile he slowly brought his right hand down to his coat pocket. Even as his vision darkened, Dib forced his hand to move as slow as he could bear, knowing he only had one chance. Finally his fingers brushed against the leather duster's pocket, and he thrust his hand inside. Just as his vision winked out, Dib's fingers wrapped around the cool, slim shape of the syringe, and he drew it from his pocket, throwing it as hard as he could away from them both.

Too late, Zim saw Dib's arm lash out, saw the syringe fly through the air.

" _NO!_ " he screamed, his arms falling away from Dib's neck and reaching uselessly in the direction of his mirforn. The syringe hit a wall and shattered, fluid splashing out onto both wall and floor.

Dib gasped and brought his hands up to shove Zim in the chest as hard as he could manage. Still staring at the stain on the wall where the syringe had impacted, Zim was thrown off balance, and Dib scrabbled backwards, freeing himself from Zim's legs. He kept moving until his back hit a wall. Still wheezing, he leaned back against the wall, pulling his legs up to his chest. One hand reached into his other coat pocket, pulling out the stiletto knife. He gripped it in shaking hands, his eyes never leaving Zim. He realized, somewhere beyond the sound of blood pounding in his ear drums, that he could hear himself sobbing again, though he didn't know when he'd started.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking "Finally, the chapter where this will become ZADR!" Then that doesn't happen because these two are some fucked up lil dudes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long guys. Also I'm on tumblr now if you wanna hang out/bug me for updates there. @cuttlefishery1890

Zim stared at the wet spot on the wall, watching his mirforn drip down to the floor in slow, winding courses. He closed his eyes.

_Gone. It’s all gone. Nothing left for Zim to hide behind now._

Red eyes opened again. He forced himself to forget the precious few hours the mirforn would have bought him. He saw his PAK on the floor, where it had been dragged after Zim had thrown Dib’s computer. A long cable still stretched between the device and the sad pile of circuitry and aluminum that had been a laptop.

Zim brought himself up onto one knee to stand up and froze. A wave of vertigo passed through him. The mirforn’s effectiveness had been getting shorter and shorter each time. He grit his teeth and stood up, dragging himself past the pile of elbows and knees and trench coat that was Dib to get to his PAK. He stooped over it and tore Dib’s cable out with a snarl before stumbling over to the chair next to the still-at-work lab equipment. Dropping into the chair, Zim cradled the PAK to his chest.

The silence of the room was punctuated by short, sharp sobs from the human. Each sound Dib made was like a metal file to Zim’s antennae.

“Dib,” he whispered, long fingers wrapping across the speckled hemisphere he clutched.

The sobs continued. Zim grabbed a glass flask from the counter and threw it in Dib’s direction, where it shattered on the floor. “ _Listen to me._ ”

The sobs cut off to be replaced by labored, heavy breaths. Zim looked over at the human sitting against the wall. His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around. His hands were digging into the flesh of his forearms, and his face was hidden, looking down into his lap. He was listening, though. Zim knew there was a part of Dib completely incapable of ignoring him, a part that was slave to Zim’s every word.

“You have taken from me the pleasure of killing you slowly,” Zim said, eyes narrowed. “But you know I’m still going to kill you, don’t you?”

Dib slowly looked up at Zim. Even though his eyes were red from crying and his shoulders shuddered with each breath, his face was devoid of expression. The light from the lasers glinted off his glasses, giving him an eerily Irken appearance.

“Give me the weapon, Dib,” Zim drawled.

Nothing.

“Give. It. To. Me. _Now_ ,” Zim breathed. Still, the pale human remained motionless. Zim slammed his PAK down on the counter and spun out of the chair to face Dib. He strode over to him and grabbed his thick black hair, pulling his head back. Zim straddled Dib, using his legs to pin the human to the ground, and reached a hand into Dib’s coat pocket, finding the slender rod immediately. He pulled it out and held it to Dib’s neck, thumb poised over the release mechanism. There was still no reaction from Dib. He stared up at Zim blankly.

 _Finish it, finish him now. You have the chance, you can end this, you can be alone._ The thoughts streamed through Zim’s head, yet he hesitated.

“Why did you change the terms of our agreement?” Zim whispered, fingers tightening their grip on Dib’s hair. “Why did you stop caring about escape?”

Dib’s throat clicked as he swallowed. Zim noted the dark purpling of bruises that spread all over the human’s neck and felt a twinge of pleasure.

“It was more... productive to stay,” he whispered hoarsely. “A better use of my time.”

“Better than freedom?”

“Freedom wasn’t really in the cards.”

Zim was tired. It was a new feeling, this complete and utter fatigue, and it was making him slow and soft. He shifted his weight onto Dib’s thighs, enjoying the warmth they generated. His fingers were still twined in Dib’s hair, and he squeezed, causing the man to wince.

“Spit it out so I can kill you.”

Dib licked his lips, looked away, looked back.

“Turns out I have an appointment with the dissection table.”

“What?”

“My dad- he told me I was an experiment. A clone gone bad. I guess he realized I was never going to be the next great Professor Membrane, so he decided to terminate the experiment and start over.”

Zim looked at Dib, mouth agape. Then a giggle. Dib’s pale face twisted in confusion. Another giggle then a full belly laugh. Zim grabbed his sides as he was overtaken by glee at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“You-,” Zim gasped, leaning back and trying to breathe. “After all these years of you promising to cut _me_ up, you’re the one that-,” another burst of giggles, “You! You’re going to get sliced open and shoved into jars and stared at under microscopes!”

He had never been so consumed by pure glee before. Zim rocked back and forth, cackling madly, blade forgotten on the floor. His eyes started leaking again, and he tried to calm down, rubbing gloved hands across his face. As his own laughter subsided, Zim realized Dib had started laughing too. Zim opened his eyes and looked down into Dib’s eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re right!” Dib gasped. He rocked his head back to lean against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s kind of perfect, isn’t it?”

“Completely perfect,” Zim sighed. The laughter had energized him, though a tremor had returned to his hands during the episode. His hands were feeling trapped by the gloves once again, and he flexed his fingers anxiously.

“So, yeah,” Dib said lightly. “It occurred to me I’d rather get stuck in here, studying you, than go back out there and be on the run.”

Zim hummed in assent. He looked at the bruises on Dib’s neck again, fingers aching to touch, to see if they felt as delicious as they looked. “That’s wise. Zim is an endlessly fascinating being.”

Dib chuckled. “Fascinating and psychotic. I’ll put it on your tombstone.”

A pause.

Zim’s spooch clenched, and ice ran through his arms, quelling the itch in his fingers. His hand stretched out to take up the stiletto, but Dib was faster. Long, white fingers wrapped around it, and it was back in Dib’s pocket before Zim could stop him.

Zim hissed and shoved Dib’s face to the side, forcing himself to stand. He looked down at the man on the floor and shivered, a wave of cold passing through him.

“You’re prolonging the inevitable. You’re going to die in here no matter what. Your choice is to do so by my hand or by starvation after my death. Why resist?”

Dib opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider, and closed it again. He gently touched his neck, wincing at the damage. Zim’s fingers twitched, yearning to run across that mottled skin. He looked to his destroyed computer.

“I really wish you hadn’t broken that. I was still decrypting a lot of data.”

Zim shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. _Had it always been so quiet?_ Zim wasn’t sure _what_ was too quiet, but something was different.

“So you had no clue about the neurological input from your PAK?” Dib asked, still gazing at the smashed laptop.

Zim grunted noncommittally.

“It didn’t look like an alteration, not like the growth suppressants. I think it’s part of the basic function, something all Irkens get.”

Again, a grunt. There was something nudging in the back of Zim’s mind. A connection he was so close to making. _Why is it so quiet?_ He clenched his eyes shut, teetering on the edge of something he was certain would destroy him.

“If _I_ wanted to conquer the universe, it sure would be easier if I could manufacture an entire race of violence-crazed, single-minded soldiers.”

Zim squatted, clutching his head in his hands. _Stop. Shut up. Don’t shut up. Too quiet. Too much. NeedtofightneedtokilldoIdoIdoIwhybecausebecausewhybecause. Help. SHUT UP!_

Fingers itching. Gloves suffocating. Zim tore the gloves off and pressed his hands to his face, a pained groan tearing out of his body. His cool fingers pressed against his face, nails digging into his temples. The pain helped. The pain made everything quieter. Louder? Better.

“-so even though you smashed my computer, the lab tests will still be able to confirm _some_ of my theory.  I think the levels of decomposition should-”

One eye cracked open to stare at the human. Dib was oblivious, caught up in his own scientific inquiry.

“ _Stop_ ,” Zim whispered. “ _Please_ , Dib.”

Dib cut himself off, staring at Zim with consternation. His hand reached into the pocket holding the stiletto. He waited.

“ _What_ ,” Zim hissed, “is the _point_ of telling me this? Do you derive pleasure out of wrenching apart everything in my life before I die? Is this your idea of revenge?”

“I-,” Dib stopped. Swallowed. “I think that maybe, I’m not sure, I mean we won’t know for certain, but it seems like you might not actually be dying?”

Quiet. Eyes making contact. Red and amber. Nails releasing from flesh, then digging back in. Another chill.

“I’m not proficient in human profanity,” Zim said slowly, “But I’m going to hazard a guess and say _fuck you, Dib_.”

Dib’s fingers were twisting around each other in painful contortions. He stared back at Zim.

“Listen,” he said. “It’s not that I want it to be true, but I think you might just be going through severe withdrawal from whatever was in your PAK. I mean, they put me on Zoloft once, a few years ago, and I stopped taking it, and I _thought_ I was dying. It was like lightning was shooting through my brain. I felt like I was being ripped apart by mood swings, not to mention the nausea and dizziness-,”

Zim’s nails dug deeper into the flesh of his face. He wanted them to pierce the skin, to reach into his mind and tear out every last thought that was racing through there.

“Stop trying to apply your stupid human experiences. You are trying to refute one of the most basic aspects of Irken existence. Without our PAKs _we die_. We go insane and then we die. It’s so simple you should be able to understand it. Every single day we are reminded that the most horrible death is that by PAK deactivation. We are told stories of soldiers consigned to that fate.”

“Right, but isn’t it always in exile? Like, if you were on Irk they would kill you more quickly, right? Have you ever actually seen an Irken die like this?”

There was too much space in Zim’s brain, too much room for these thoughts to echo and reverberate.

“Are you proposing that there are PAKless Irkens simply wandering about across the universe?”

“No, they’re almost certainly dead.”

Zim glared at Dib, antennae twitching in rage.

“What I mean,” Dib sputtered, “Is they’re probably dead because they were abandoned on a planet filled with hostile aliens. I’d assume an Irken stripped of their tools and resources must be a pretty easy target for a planet pissed off about being picked for invasion.”

Zim imagined it, being weak and filled with counterintuitive, confusing urges, surrounded by enemies and unable to fight back or escape. He shuddered. There was a specific cruelty in it that rang true to Irken values.

“But humans are so _stupid_ ,” he groaned. “They have no clue I’m here or that I was ever a threat. The only one who knows is-.”

 He rocked back on his heels, lost his balance, and fell onto his ass on the floor. His hands fell to either side, stabilizing him. He looked up at Dib in shock.

“ _You_. They did this on purpose, locking you in here with me. They expect you to kill me.”

\----

Billions of light years away, Purple fell off his chair, spilling his bowl of fried blarmian beetleworms.

“Did you _see_ that?” he shouted from the floor. “Can you believe they figured this all out?”

“Fiiiiiiinally,” Red droned, spinning in his chair. “This has been soooo boring I almost stopped watching. Why is it taking so loooooooong?”

He scooped up a handful of beetleworms and shoved them into his mouth. He spoke around the crunching legs and shells.

“If this doesn’t pick up soon, I’m gonna stop watching. All I want is to see Zim die a painful, violent death, whyyyyy is that so hard?”

Purple ignored him, licking beetleworm mucus off one finger and watched the screen hungrily.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, I'm trying to go through the fic again to catch things that should be tagged, but please let me know if there is stuff that you think should be included in the tags. I've realized the choking and panic attacks are something that people should have known about ahead of time.

"Huh," said Dib. "Interesting."

It was more than that. It was exciting and confusing, insulting and borderline erotic? On the one hand, killing Zim had been, no _is_ ( _right?_ ), Dib's raison d'être, and it would be relatively easy. In fact, there had been several opportunities when it would have been so simple, when Zim was seizing from withdrawal, or when he was entranced by his own hands, which, by the way, was something Dib still wanted to get back to. Dib scanned the room, wondering if there was a camera.  _Are they watching now? Are they going to record me killing him? Am I doing them a favor?_ Was he okay with that? With being used and discarded like so much trash?

He glanced at Zim. The alien was still plopped on the floor, legs sprawled in front and hands scrabbling against the floor. He was watching Dib, uncertainty saturating his features. Dib pulled at the neck of his shirt, aware of how warm he felt. _When did it get so hot in here?_

"What do you think?"

Zim blinked. His tongue darted across his lips.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Dib shifted into a cross-legged position, leaning forward, ignoring the dizziness it caused.. "If I am right and you aren't actually dying, that still means we're trapped here, right? Unless you've been lying about being completely useless at getting me out, and let's face it, Zim, you are definitely not a good liar."

Zim hissed softly.

"I'll take that to mean ‘yes, we are trapped here.’ So that leaves us with two options: A, starving to death together after running out of rations or B, one of us killing the other and _then_ slowly starving to death over twice as long a period of time. Irkens are supposed to die in battle, right? Your whole ‘You shouldn’t be here, this is so degrading’ vibe makes that pretty clear. What I’m trying to say is, _do_ you want some kind of final epic battle to the death?"

Soft scratching of nails against the floor. The omnipresent hum of lasers. Dib twisted his fingers around each other, not sure what answer he was hoping for. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and pulling them close.

“I don’t know,” Zim whispered, so softly it was almost unintelligible.

Something twisted in Dib’s chest. Relief? Anxiety? He couldn’t tell.

A few weeks ago and _sure_ , he’d have gladly leapt to his death as long as his hands were wrapped around Zim’s slender, green neck. He’d have been saving the human race from an alien invasion, and that was a pretty badass way to go. But finding out you were literally a lab experiment gone wrong and that your own father felt your most useful output was dissection had a funny way of changing how you viewed the world. His father had been an ass, sure- distant, unhelpful, utterly dismissive of anything in the crypto- or xenological fields- but Dib had still felt like there was something there, love or paternal instinct. Revealing Zim to the world, and to his father, was all it would take to unlock that connection; saving the world would make everyone look up and _see_ him, understand who and why he was in the world.

Turns out, no, not at all, and that one, relatively small discovery made Dib feel a whole lot less enamored with _homo sapiens_. Were they really doing anything Dib cared about overall? Between the overwhelming chasm of mass extinction and planetary ecological failure and the interpersonal and international ethnic, racial, and resource-hungry violence, was humanity something Dib really wanted to be a part of?

Was creating a whole new life without Zim to delineate him something he wanted?

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Me neither.”

He watched Zim, saw the fingers dig into the floor again. Those fingers were acutely compelling; before he’d been sealed in here, Dib had never seen them. Zim had _always_ worn gloves, always, and Dib was enthralled with the long, green digits he’d seen during the last few hours ( _days? who knew anymore_ ).

Dib remembered looking down at Zim's face as he'd brushed his own fingers across it, as he caressed his own thin lips. He pictured Zim's slender, delicate index finger sliding between those lips. For the second time since he'd been stuck in Zim's lab, Dib felt like he'd been encroaching on a private moment. Dib slid off his coat, the heat in the lab seemingly increasing with each minute. He rested his chin on his knees and studied Zim.

How much of what he thought of as "Zim" was real and how much of it was the result of the drugs that had been pumped into him his entire life? Dib thought about the efficient, cold bureaucracy that must have existed, however long ago, that had decided its agenda would be best served via involuntary mental capitulation.

_Who have I been fighting for over a decade?_

Dib licked his lips, painfully cleared his throat, then croaked, "The lab results should be done soon. They should tell us if I'm right."

Zim nodded absently. Dib's forehead itched, and he ran his knuckles across his brow. His fingers came away smeared with blood, a reminder of the cut Dib had neglected to clean. He patted at his forehead more gingerly and found it alarmingly wet for what he had assumed was a small cut. It was again time to employ the services of the lab's medical cabinet and sink.

Over the sink, he ran the dampened bandage across his forehead and examined it. There were only a few, pinkish streaks of blood. Dib swiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. _Sweat?_ _It's definitely getting hotter in here._ Dib remoistened the roll of bandages and ran it over his face and down his neck as he looked up at the ceiling and down where the walls met the floor. Vents were scattered throughout, and he remembered the gas that had poured into the chamber and rendered him unconscious. Sweat dripped slowly between his shoulder blades, and Dib flapped the bottom of his t-shirt, fanning his lean, pale stomach.

"Hey Zim," he called, leaning against the wall, overwhelmed with heat. Zim was where Dib had left him, sitting on the ground and running his fingers along the floor. The alien looked up at Dib and widened his eyes, antennae perking up.

"Do you think," Dib paused, his mouth and throat feeling parched. He sucked his cheeks and tried again. "Do you think your leaders might try to do stuff to, uh, speed up the process of us killing each other?"

"Probable," Zim said slowly, turning his body to completely face Dib. His fingers had stilled, and his antennae were almost completely erect.

"Is that what's going on with the heat?" Dib asked before running his tongue over chapped lips. Zim slowly shook his head and stood up.

"You can't tell me the insane increase in temperature is normal, Zim, there's something-" The world shifted _hard_ , and Dib had just enough time to wonder why Zim was lunging forward before everything went black.

\---

 Dib's head ached, and as quickly as he tried to open his eyes he shut them again, wincing against the light shining down on him. He tried to bring his hand up to shield his face and met resistance. He pulled at his arm again and cold flooded his stomach as he realized it was strapped down. Icy metal pressed against the back of his body, and Dib clenched his teeth to smother the scream that tore his way out of his throat. Dib pulled at his arm again, panic rising. He kicked his legs, and his feet flew up easily. Dib stilled, trying to stay calm, and tried to raise his other arm. It easily lifted free of the table. Only one arm was strapped down. Jaw still clamped shut and eyes shut against the uncomfortably bright light overhead, Dib forced himself to take a deep breath. He brought his free arm over to the bound one, feeling for a strap.

"Stop it, you idiot," Zim hissed from somewhere behind his head. Dib felt a tube leading down to an intravenous needle sunk into his forearm and grasped at it, trying to rip it free. A cold, vinyl-clad hand thrust his fingers away.

"Dib."

Dib was trying to keep breathing, trying to keep the fear from spreading from his stomach and chest into his mind, but he heard it in his head, over and over, _Specimen 492, you are a corrupted exercise- a corrupted exercise- -the root of the error will be found- dissection - dissection - DISSECTION_. He reached for his trapped arm again, grabbing at the first tube he felt and pulling- a slap burned across his face.

"You need to _stop_ ," Zim yelled, leaning over and dragging Dib's free arm down against his side. "I do not have the energy to fight you _and_ heal you, so stop struggling or I will _kill you_."

Dib clenched his hands, nails digging sharp crescents into his palms as he tried to focus, tried to understand what Zim was staying. _I'm with Zim. I'm not with Dad. I'm in the base. I'm safe._ That last thought was questionable, but Dib forced his body to stop struggling and tried to get his breath under control. He heard a metallic squeal, and the light over him decreased. He barely cracked his eyelids open and looked up at the alien still clenching his arm.

"Zim," Dib rasped, "Why the _fuck_ am I tied to a table? How did you knock me out? What are you put-"

"I didn't knock you out, you ungrateful little piece of meat." Zim was still peering down at Dib, looking directly into his eyes.

One hand left Dib's arm and rested on his forehead, thumb reaching down to retract Dib's eyelid. Dib ground his teeth, but otherwise he was able to keep completely still.

"You fainted of your own accord, thanks to that _repulsive_ wound on your hand." The eyelid was released before the other eye was subjected to the same treatment.

"Wha- the burn?" Dib felt woozy, and stringing together words took far too much effort. Despite his concerted effort to slow his breath, his heart felt like it was going to explode. The strap on his wrist, the cold table chilling his body, and his father's voice echoing in his head were keeping him on the edge of panic.

"Yes, stupid, the burn. You had an infection, causing a fever, causing your pathetic collapse." Done poking at Dib's eyes, Zim's hand brushed through Dib's hair before drawing away to rest on the edge of the table. His other hand was still gripping Dib's arm too tightly.

"I- wait- I _had_ an infection?" Dib hoped his face was conveying the question he was too tired and agitated to fully enunciate.

Zim said nothing, merely reaching over to adjust the needle Dib had jostled out of place in his fight to get free. Dib winced as the needle was wiggled back into proper alignment.

"Can you untie my arm?"

Zim's eyes flicked down to Dib's. His fingers loosened then bore down again on Dib's arm. Dib felt a tremor pass through Zim's hand before his grip relaxed again.

"Will you keep your arm in place?"

Dib closed his eyes. He dragged up one leg so the sole of his foot was resting against the table and exhaled raggedly.

"Please," he whispered. "I can't be strapped down."

He felt Zim release the grip on his arm and heard him shifting around the table. Fingers closed around his bound wrist as the clasp clicked and fell away.

"Do _not_ move it," Zim growled. "I am exhausted."

Dib flexed his fingers and rolled his wrist but otherwise kept his arm stationary. He slid his leg down until it was again parallel with the table. _Breathe. It's fine. Breathe. You can move if you need to._ His chest rose and depressed with deliberate slowness as the pounding of his heart slowly receded from his ears.

"Unsurprisingly, given how poorly you've been cleaning it, the burn on your hand was well on its way to becoming septic," Zim muttered, turning away from Dib before turning back with a ration bar in his hand. He pressed it into Dib's good hand before turning away again. Dib wrapped his fingers around the block of food and rested his hand on his chest. Something didn't make sense, but his head hurt too much, and the table was feeling so soothing against his too-warm body. Still.

"Why?" Dib croaked, rolling onto his side and taking care to keep his arm extended.

Zim tapped his fingers against the table, looking at the tube running from Dib's arm to a bag of fluid suspended overhead.

"Zim..." _Why are you helping me? Why didn't you kill me? How long until you change your mind and try to strangle me?_

"Because Zim," Zim closed his eyes, fingers gripping the edge of the table. He exhaled and looked into Dib's eyes. "Because _I_ do not know what to do without you in my way."

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the long wait for this chapter. I don't know why it was so hard to write.

_Two hours earlier_

Zim realized he was moving forward nearly simultaneously with the realization that Dib was falling. It was only when he was staggering under the weight of Dib's torso that he asked himself what he was doing. His knees buckled before an answer was forthcoming, and Dib's hot, heavy body lay over him in a burning contrast to the floor beneath. Eating had given Zim a great deal more strength, but he still struggled to slide out from under Dib's body. After freeing himself he lay supine, panting and head turned to stare at the limp human next to him. His skin shone with perspiration, and his shirt clung wetly to his chest. He tossed his head to the side and mumbled something incomprehensible. Zim looked up at the ceiling, arms and legs splayed out. He was so tired, and it was _still too quiet._

There had always been an urge, a push in his mind to fight, to lash out, to _win_ , and now there was nothing except Zim. _How does anyone exist like this? Without purpose, without function, without something to drown out the deafening awareness of- of who? Of Zim. Of me?_

Dib moaned and swiped at his face with his hands.

"Too hot," he murmured. "They're smoking us out, they're trying to make us..." He trailed off.

_No they aren't. They don't need to. One of us will finish it eventually._

Zim rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one arm. He looked down at Dib, who was lost in half-waking delirium. His tongue ran over his lip, and his free hand tentatively reached down to brush across his pale, slick face. It was so, so warm, inviting Zim to press his whole body into the heat and into contact with another, living being. His fingers traced the ridge of Dib's brow, ran down his cheek, and softly brushed along his jawline, just barely avoiding the soft rise of Dib's lips. His skin was prickling, and a heavy heat felt like it was draining from his chest down into the space between his legs, a space he didn't have a name for nor had ever recognized as different.

His hand dropped to the floor, and Zim rolled away from Dib, staring across the lab. His fingers itched to touch, explore, discover, but it was too much. He slammed his fist into the floor, and the bright, sharp pain drove back confusing sensations. He turned over to face Dib again, keeping one arm under his head and the other clenched to his chest. _What now_ _?_

He could wait it out, see if Dib would die on his own. He didn't know how long it would take, but it demanded the least from him. Zim watched Dib's chest rise and fall, feeling his own breath come into alignment with the rhythm. Zim focused as much of his scattered mind as he could on that cycle and pushed everything else away. In. Out. In. Out. Nothing else.

Zim realized he could stay like this, let Dib and himself slowly fade away on the cool floor of his dark lab.

 _Or I could kill him_. He remembered the heat of Dib's neck under his fingers and shivered. _I did promise him I'd kill him_. But that had been before Dib had shown him the data. Or had it been after? The onslaught of emotion, oscillating between homicidal and incapacitating, left him with a very hazy recollection of the exact order of events.

Zim shifted his body closer to Dib's, pressing his lithe torso up against Dib's arm. Dib was drenched in sweat and burning up. Zim's fingers traced along the bruises on his neck, biting his lip as he felt the flutter of Dib's pulse. His hand dragged slowly down the damp t-shirt before reaching into the pocket of the black jacket. Zim's fingers wrapped around the familiar handle of the stiletto. He withdrew it and brought it up to Dib's neck, the end of the handle pressing into the soft space just below the angle of his jaw.

For the second time that day he held Dib's life in his hands, and for the second time he paused. Zim rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. _Pfft. Shht. Pfft. Shht. Pfft._ Arm held against his side, he released and retracted the blade. This was weakness and failure and despair all balled up into one tiny action he couldn't do.

Then the pain hit.

No warning this time, no sense of an internal tide shifting away from functionality. It consumed Zim utterly and viciously. His fists clenched into his thighs, and Zim barely noticed the stiletto's tip puncturing his leggings and scraping across his skin.

" _DibmirfornDib-I need_ -" But the mirforn was gone, and Dib couldn't help him. Zim clenched his teeth, holding his head between his hands as he rolled onto his side.

"You said it would stop," he hissed. The pain crashed through him in waves, and his legs curled up to his chest as the muscles in them spasmed. Hot wet drops pricked the corner of Zim's eyes, and a ball of knotted heat formed in his throat, straining his breath.

"You were _wrong_ ," Zim choked. His eyes cracked open, sending tears sliding across his horizontal face until they trickled down between his fingers and finally onto the floor. That pathetic, croaking sob was forcing its way out of him again, and Zim didn't care anymore. He didn't try to hide it or stop it. Huge, wet, red eyes stared at Dib, and Zim felt like something in his chest was breaking. A flood of squeaky croaks coursed through him, intermingling with the pain in a whirl of sensation.

"You were wrong," he whispered.

Dib turned on his side, still delirious but partly conscious. Eyelids flickered once. Twice. A hand was extended. It lay between them, pale and clammy.

"S'gunna be fine," Dib mumbled. "Space lizards like hot." His eyes slipped shut again. His fingers stretched and bent, beckoning.

Zim stared at it until another blast of pain ricocheted through his legs. He closed his eyes and cried.

A soft, clumsy brush against his face made him open them again. Dib's hand was patting across his face, forearms, and fists. Zim batted him away with his hand.

Dib's hand caught his and everything slowed. Even through the pain, Zim felt the heat and delicate skin and soft, beating pulse of Dib. Another crash of pain made the sensation recede, but it was still there, and Zim tried to focus on it.

Dib squeezed Zim's hand gently and whispered, "S'gunna be okay."

They lay that way for an hour, linked by their intertwined fingers, one unconscious and one riding out the final, painful waves of neurochemical withdrawal. Dib didn't say anything else, didn't react when Zim's sobs quieted or when his lithe green fingers pulled away.

Zim sat up and turned to the side. He vomited up every last bit of ration bar in his system, his body retching until there was nothing left to purge. He scanned the room, pulling on his gloves once more. An array of medications, saline, ice. Everything he'd needed for prolonged experimentation and maintenance of a human specimen would finally get some use.

Zim reached out a hand and awkwardly patted Dib's head. "It's going to be fine, worm-baby."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Master's thesis in progress combined with depression.

Something brushed against the back of Dib's hand, and he looked down the table to see Zim's gloved fingers softly tracing the ridges of his metacarpals. His hand turned over, pale palm open and waiting. The black fingers drew back as Dib's hand moved but slowly descended down to brush the soft skin.

_I do not know what to do without you in my way._

Dib watched, his chest tight with fear and uncertainty and something else. A hazy memory of their fingers entwined, of Dib's fingers clumsily tracing alien cheekbones flickered across his mind. He swallowed, and closed his eyes, afraid to look at Zim.

"I know what you mean," he finally whispered. Fingers softly dragged up the tender skin of his forearm, creeping to the crease of his elbow before snaking back down to his tingling palm.

"Do you?" Zim hissed gently. "Do you truly understand this? Tell me, human, because I understand none of it."

Dib opened his eyes. Zim's eyes were intently following the path of his fingers, his jaw set and his antennae angled back. Dib sat up and turned to face him, swinging his legs to hang off the side of the table, careful of the arm still receiving intravenous fluids. Startled, Zim withdrew his hand, holding it to his chest like he'd been burned. Now face-to-face, Dib could see the pallid tone had returned to Zim's cheeks. Over his shoulder he saw a smear of blue on the floor and dimly recalled screams, sobs, and retches. His free hand caught Zim by the wrist and drew it towards him. The Irken let him. Dib transferred his grip on Zim to his other hand, careful not to disrupt the needle taped to his own arm.

"This used to make sense, didn't it?" Dib fingered the edge of Zim's glove, as he spoke. "When you showed up, it validated everything I believed, and even better, you gave me a purpose. I was the only one who saw you, and that made me the only one who could stop you, who could save humanity. Being the savior of your race makes you feel connected to it, even if nobody else sees you that way."

He gently peeled the glove down, just far enough to pass Zim's elbow and expose a sliver of green, softly-scaled skin. He felt Zim clench his fist for a moment, then release. Dib exhaled and pulled the glove a little further down.

"I think maybe it was the same for you, even if you didn't know it. This planet, teeming with oblivious idiots, was so perfectly ripe for invasion, would bring you the glory you'd been taught and conditioned to crave. Only one, single, puny creature stood in your way."

The glove was now bunched down at Zim's wrist, his entire forearm bare. Dib's fingers hovered above the green skin, feeling like he was on fire with nerves. Softly, just as Zim had done to him, Dib lightly dragged his fingertips down Zim's arm, afraid to look anywhere but where his fingers were. A gasp folded into a hiss, ending in a nearly inaudible moan.

"And that worked for both of us for a long time," Dib continued, focusing on the delicately scaled texture of Zim's arm and not on the fire coursing through his own body. "We each represented acceptance and praise and belonging to our own people. You stood for all of that, to me. You were _everything_ , Zim. Who I was, who I wanted to be, what gave my life meaning, all of that centered around you."

His fingers hooked under the fabric bunched at Zim's wrist, feeling Zim's pulse flutter. Dib inhaled slowly before raising his head. Zim looked away but didn't move his arm. Dib waited, hands still, for Zim to return his gaze. Slowly, haltingly, red eyes met his own.

"Now you don't stand for anything," Dib went on. "You aren't the first of a conquering horde, and beating you won't change anything for me. I'm human, but not really, and I'm never going to feel like I belong."

Dib broke the gaze, looking down at the delicate hand he held in front of himself. A deep, shuddering breath coursed through him.

"You don't represent anything but yourself, but you're still the only thing in my life that makes me feel meaningful." He pulled his hooked fingers down, sliding the glove off Zim's delicate hand and dropping it to the floor. He raised Zim's hand and pressed it against his own face, leaning his flushed cheek into Zim's cool palm. His eyes flicked up to Zim's face and dropped his own hand down to his lap, leaving Zim free to pull away. He didn't. Instead, Zim's thumb traced the bridge of Dib's nose and one dark, arched brow.

"Oh," Zim whispered. "Yes."

"I don't know what we are, but I don't want to figure out a life without you," Dib murmured, face growing even hotter. "Maybe it's a good thing we're trapped down here. We don't have to make this work or understand it for very long. We can just-" he swallowed, "We- I can help- you can be-"

It was too much, the blood pounding in his ears, the twist and pull of a disused heart, the way one of Zim's nails just barely dug into the underside of his jaw. Zim went out of focus before fading away, and Dib slumped forward.

He came to a moment later, again lying on the cold table. This time he woke to Zim's hand pressed to his chest, mouth twisted in dismay.

"Stop doing that," Zim hissed gently. "I'm too tired to keep catching you."

"Sorry," Dib whispered, pulling Zim's hand from his chest up to his face. He balked at the slippery feel of the glove Zim had slipped back on. Zim rubbed his thumb against Dib's cheek before withdrawing his hand.

"You are forgiven. Try to be less fragile," Zim muttered, deftly removing the IV from Dib's arm and bandaging the injection site.

"Less fragile? I'm pretty sure _you're_ in the lead for health crises!" Dib squawked.

Zim's hands shot back like Dib was electrically charged.

"Yes, _thank you_ for that reminder, Dib. Thank you for reminding me of the eternal _fucking_ countdown sequence in the back of my mind."

He ripped the IV bag off its hook and tossed it, the tube, and the needle towards the disposal panel. Dib winced, bringing his hands together on his chest, rubbing the new bandage that covered his hand.

"Zim..." _I'm sorry_. The words stuck in his throat. They weren't enough. Didn't convey anything. "I'm scared."

Zim walked across the room and picked up the IV equipment. He punched a switch on the wall to open the panel and threw the used materials in before returning to Dib's side and sitting on the edge of the table. He reached behind himself, touching the space between his shoulder blades where his PAK once sat, feeling the ports that used to jack him in to a world of hatred and obsession that made sense.

"Everything is different now," Zim murmured, pulling Dib's bandaged hand away from his chest and unwinding the bandage. "Except for you. But we aren't the same. It is..."

"Scary?" Dib prompted.

"Yes," Zim sighed. He removed the last of the bandage and flipped Dib's hand over to inspect it. "You are different now, thanks to Zim." He gestured at Dib's hand as he released it. Dib drew his hand to his face, eyes wide.

The infected, decaying skin was gone; instead, smooth green skin spread across his palm and down one side of his wrist. He clenched and flexed his hand, the green patch seamlessly bending and spreading with the rest of his flesh. He looked closer and saw the faint shimmer of scales.

"A skin graft," Zim said airily. "Like I said, the wound was turning septic. Once I burned away the diseased tissue, the damage was too large to risk letting it heal on its own. Of course, the only artificial skin I had was designed for Irken aesthetics, and so..." He gestured vaguely at Dib's hand.

"This," Dib said slowly, turning his hand side-to-side, "is so fucking cool."

Zim's antennae perked up. "Is it?"

" _Fuck_ yes, now I've got a little piece of extraterrestrial evidence you can't steal or destroy."

Zim was about to retort when he saw that Dib was grinning. Zim's mouth hung open for a moment before he clicked his teeth together and responded, "Well, I saved your life, so it doesn't matter if you like it or not."

"Is it super sensitive like your hands are?" Dib glanced at Zim's hands, which were resting in his lap. Zim looked down as well, one hand plucking at the fabric.

"No. There would be no utilitarian value for a graft to do that. Before- when I had my PAK- I didn't feel this way. My hands weren't so... aware."

"Does it hurt?" Dib lifted Zim's hand delicately. "Or does it just feel good?"

Zim clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he thought. "It is... overwhelming at times. Good, but a lot."

"That's why you put your gloves back on while I, um, after I fainted?"

"Yes, the sensation was distracting."

Dib remembered the quiet moan he'd elicited by grazing Zim's forearm with his fingers. _More than just his hands. I wonder how far the sensitivity extends_. Heat flushed his cheeks at the thought.

"Would it be distracting now?" Dib didn't know what he was doing, felt like he was playing with fire but couldn't stop.

Zim looked down at him. "You want me to take them off?"

"I mean," Dib licked his suddenly very dry lips. "I just mean- it seems like it feels good, and you should take advantage of- of that."

Zim hands gripped the edge of the table, and very quietly whispered, "They make me- my hands- when I can feel, I want to touch, I want _more_."

Dib's stomach was filled with butterflies, and he pushed away thoughts of amazement at how quickly this all had shifted.

"Oh," he squeaked. "Yes."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've retrospectively rated this fic as explicit. I've never been super clear on the line between mature and explicit, but given where this fic is going, I'd rather be safe than sorry. As always, please let me know if there are tags you think should be added.

Dib tried to sit up, but Zim firmly pushed him back down.

"No. No more fainting. Stay there."

He looked down at Dib, noticing the flush that spread across his cheeks and how his pupils were dilated. Beneath his hand, Zim could feel Dib's heart pounding in his chest. The rhythm was stimulating, even through his gloves and Dib's thin shirt. He closed his eyes and focused on the beating beneath his hand, on the heat radiating from Dib's body, on the slight ridges of rib bones he could feel. His fingers wanted to be free.

 _No_. **_I_** _want my fingers to be free. I'm in control now. Just Zim._

He started as his hand was lifted off Dib's chest; opening his eyes he watched as Dib peeled the glove off. Dib looked up at him and brought Zim's hand down his face before softly pressing his lips against Zim's palm.

Zim whimpered at the heat pressed to his skin. Dib moved his mouth away and waited. Zim looked at him, unsure what to do.

"Are you going to hurt me?" Dib whispered, rubbing small circles into Zim's palm with his thumb. Zim pulled his hand free and lightly pushed Dib's head to the side, examining the bruises. That had felt _good_ , but it no longer felt like enough. The dynamics of their relationship were grinding into something new, something fiercer and more dangerous. He turned Dib's head back to the center.

"No."

Dib again pushed his soft lips into Zim's palm. _Heat. Soft. Yes._ Zim leaned against the table as Dib moved his lips to the tips of his fingers, kissing each one softly.

Zim pulled his hand away from Dib's mouth and, placing his hands on either side of Dib's head, leaned forward to climb onto the table and bring one leg over Dib to straddle him. He extended his other arm. Dib roughly stripped off the second glove and pressed a wetter, open-mouthed kiss to Zim's other palm.

He wrapped his hand around Dib's throat and felt the flutter of his jugular. His other hand stayed pressed to Dib's mouth, fingers draping across his cheeks. Hot breath against the moist spot on his palm. They stayed like that for a moment, each one weighing, calculating, projecting the trajectory that unfolded in front of them.

Zim's hips ground down against Dib's, gasping at the friction. Dib groaned, his mouth ajar under Zim's hand. He grabbed the collar of Zim's tunic and pulled him down until their chests were touching and their faces were inches apart. Dib brushed Zim's lips with his thumb. His skin was flushed with excitement, and Zim could feel their erections rub against each other, but there was a slightly wild cast to his eyes. They were just too wide, slightly too much white showing. Zim growled softly and pulled his hands away.

"Do not faint, Dib. I forbid it."

Dib swallowed, his eyes unfocused. He blinked several times and then gazed at Zim.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I wasn't going to faint. This is just... a lot. We thought we hated each other. We _did_ hate each other. And now..."

He swallowed again, his throat clicking. "I've spent years wanting to touch your body, wondering what your skin felt like. I just didn't think-"

"You wanted it to be my corpse."

No response was needed.

"You wanted to defeat me, to humiliate me, to _own_ me," Zim hissed. "You wanted to conquer the would-be conqueror, didn't you, Dib?"

His voice had lowered to a soft purr, though his hands remained motionless on Dib’s chest. He did _not_ want this to stop, felt like screaming at the thought of putting his gloves back on, of letting his body revert to its unaroused state. But there was something else, too, the same feeling that had let him merely rest his hand on Dib’s throat and not squeeze and squeeze and _squeeze_. What more would Dib do, what more could he do? The flush in his cheeks and the dilation of his pupils as he had pressed his hot, wet mouth against Zim’s palm, the growing hardness Zim could feel beneath him. Zim wanted to find out what was next, and he needed and _wanted_ Dib to show him.

“Well you have me, Dib,” he whispered. “You and only you. Tell me, did any of our classmates ever discover me?”

Dib shook his head.

“Did your sister ever realize an alien lived down the street?”

Again, a shake of the head.

“Is humankind any the wiser that an invader was in their midst?”

A smirk on Dib’s face as he shook his head for a third time. Zim looked down at him, their faces still only inches apart. He traced Dib’s lips lightly with a finger.

“And what about your father? Does he have an alien? Did he see through every disguise, breach every security system, foil every plan for the past ten years?”

"No," Dib whispered. His hands slid down to Zim's thighs, gripping him tightly to reaffirm what Zim was saying. Zim traced the helix of one ear, shivering as his hypersensitive fingers felt downy hair.

"You're better than him, better than all of them, Dib," Zim crooned. "No one else can claim they have Zim in their grasp, can they?"

"No." Dib's hands slid under the edge of his tunic, and Zim whimpered as hands wrapped around his waist and up his back. No one had ever touched so much of him, and he needed more. He leaned closer to Dib's ear and flicked his tongue, tasting the salty skin.

"And who do you belong to?" he purred. "Who owns your body?"

Dib's hands stopped their creep up Zim's spine, and he saw Dib's jaw clench slightly. _No._

"You don't belong to your father," Zim hissed, wrapping his fingers in Dib's hair and pulling slightly. "You belong to _me_. Every inch of you is territory conquered by Zim. Tell me, who do you belong to, Dib?"

Dib turned his head to be eye-to-eye with him. The flush was spreading across his face again, and his pupils were dilated. Nails dug into Zim's skin.

"I belong to Zim."

"And who else?" Zim ground his hips into Dib's, hissing at the friction of denim against his erection. Dib's breath hitched, and he fumbled his words.

" _Fu-_ no- ah- no one else."

" _Gooood_ ," Zim hissed. He released his grasp on Dib's hair and forced Dib's head to the side, exposing his neck. Dib whimpered as Zim's thin tongue traced its way from ear to clavicle.

"Take off your shirt."

Dib's hands retreated from Zim's back, and he sat up, shifting to keep Zim on his lap. The shirt was pulled off and dropped on the floor. Zim watched as Dib's lean, pale torso comes into view. He traced a thin scar that streaked across the left pectoral.

"Was this from me?"

"Four years ago, laser blast that just barely got me."

"And this?" He skimmed his fingers across a delicate latticework of burn tissue that draped across one shoulder.

"Yup." Dib's hands were back under Zim's tunic, gently palpating and massaging the muscles there. Zim twisted impatiently. Dib's hands were making him calm, and he didn't want calm, he wanted energy and fire.

Dib shuddered as Zim viciously raked his nails down his back, leaving white-hot streaks of pain.

"This body belongs to _me_ , Dib," he hissed, his stomach fluttering at the sight of Dib's eyes rolling back. "Every mark on you is a declaration of that."

Dib nodded lazily, his pupils blown out. Zim grinned.

"I told you what would happen if I took my gloves off, human."

Zim placed one hand in the center of Dib's chest and pushed him until he was lying down again. Dib gasped as the cold metal met the scratches on his back. He offered no resistance as Zim gripped his wrists and positioned his arms over his head, hands dangling off the edge of the table. Heat pooled in Zim's stomach as he looked down at all of the pale, fragile skin stretched in front of him.

"I don't want you to move," he whispered hungrily. "Do you understand?"

A nearly imperceptible nod. Zim softly ran his fingers down Dib's torso before digging his nails into the soft flesh above the curve of Dib's hipbone. Dib whimpered but remained motionless. Zim released his grip and ran his hands across the pale spread of Dib's stomach, reveling in the texture of the smattering of hair than trickled from his navel to below his pantline. One finger hooked beneath the edge of the fabric and tugged lightly. He hears Dib swallow and looks up at him. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, fists clenching and releasing.

" _Look at me_ ," he whispers, a second finger hooking into the waist of Dib's pants. Dib whimpers again but keeps his eyes closed. Zim hisses, and, with his free hand, reaches up to pinch Dib's nipple viciously. Dib gasps roughly and opens his eyes. He meets Zim's gaze and looks away, his mouth open and chest heaving. Zim pinches him again and delicately repeats himself. Their eyes meet.

"What am I?"

Dib's eyes flickered away, then back. He shook his head slightly. Nails raked across his chest, and he gasped, chest arching upwards into the pain.

" _What am I_?"

Dib shivers as he whispers, almost silently, "An alien."

"You like that, don't you?" Zim's thumb pushed against the button of Dib's jeans, unfastening them. His other hand swiped across Dib's chest again, creating another row of angry lines in his skin.

Dib covered his face with his hands and said nothing. Zim growled softly.

"Put your hands back above your head, Dib. If you don't, I will assume you want me to stop."

A pause. Zim felt like screaming. Stopping would destroy him, but he waited until Dib inhaled and raised his arms over his head to dangle off the table again.

" _Good_ ," Zim crooned, stroking a cheek softly. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of Dib's underwear and ran his fingers along the length of his erection. He felt it twitch beneath his hand as Dib moaned. A dark blush was spread across Dib's face and down his chest. Zim repeated the motion, enthralled by the soft skin and by the delicate V of Dib's hipbones.

"Please- Zim," he panted. Zim's other hand shot up to Dib's mouth, two fingers tracing his bottom lip.

"Be quiet," Zim whispered, and pushed his fingers into Dib's mouth. A bolt of electricity shot through him as Dib swiped his tongue across his fingers. His thighs, clenched around one of Dib's legs, tightened their grip. Dib pursed his lips around Zim's fingers and gently sucked, his eyes dark. That uncertain mania Zim had seen was gone. Dib was his, utterly and completely.

Zim wrapped his hand firmly around Dib's cock and strokes upwards. Dib moaned around Zim's fingers, his hands entwined in his own hair. Zim sighed in satisfaction. Seeing Dib fall apart beneath him like this was more exquisite than any death he could have dreamed up. Again his hand dragged down and up on Dib's cock, and he hissed as teeth briefly clenched down on his fingers before Dib's tongue grazed across them in apology.

He toyed with Dib, seeing how he reacts to more pressure, to almost no pressure, to his tongue tracing intricate designs along his neck. He abandoned Dib's mouth to experiment with his nipples, fingers pinching and twisting cruelly then softly caressing the pebbled skin. Slow, languid scratches down Dib's arms and across his stomach left him striped and keening. All the while, Zim kept one hand firmly working his cock, always stopping when he felt Dib's body tighten in anticipation of release.

"I could do this for hours," he hissed into Dib's ear, rubbing his thumb softly against the underside of Dib's cock. Dib moaned, the sound twisting off into a sob.

"I can't," he groaned, hips fighting against the grip Zim's thighs had.

"You will," Zim cooed.

Dib's hand shot down between them and, before Zim could react, slid beneath his tunic and up and under the waist of his leggings. Suddenly, Dib's had was very clearly, very _tactually_ gripping Zim.

Everything else was blown out of Zim's brain. He barely caught himself as he pitched forward, hands on either side of Dib's head. Dib was _touching_ him. Dib's pale, soft fingers were gently dragging up and down his length, and the sensation made him forget his hands, forget his tremor, forget who he was. He stared down into Dib's eyes, mouth and antennae slack.

A smirk flickered across Dib's face before he whispered, "Move up, put your legs on either side of my hips."

His free hand pushed firmly on the small of Zim's back, guiding him. Dib looked up at him, scared and solemn and somehow the one in control and grabs _both of them_ in his hand and it's too much. Zim looks down and sees himself, hard and dark rubbing against Dib's red cock, wrapped in delicate white fingers and everything goes blank.

Zim keens, his body shuddering, hips grinding down into Dib's hand seeking more _more more_ as he comes in thick stripes across Dib's scratched and scarred body.

\----

When it is finished, they remain for some time, clutching each other and gasping, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to interact in a way anywhere approaching their normal dynamic. Far away, in a remote corner of the lab, a small light blinks.

"WHAT. THE FUCK. WAS THAT?" Purple screams, pausing periodically as he is overcome by gagging.

"This is your fault," Red droned. Eyes deadened in horror. "This is what we get for trying to be subtle. You're done. Zim is going to die before we have to see anything like _that_ ever again!"

He slams an oversized button on his desk and barks, "Get a PAK tech in here _NOW_!"

 

 


End file.
